A Dragon's Journey
by Abramus5250
Summary: Spike, upon graduating from Luna's personal tutelage after coming of age, is sent out on a duty to explore the world and catalog it for Equestria. According the princesses, and by default a newly-revealed royal decree, he must return to Equestria married. Even more astounding, he must return with more than one wife, so as to complete his herd. Note: these are anthro characters.
1. Prelude to a Journey

Chapter One

Prelude to a Journey

"...and as such, the intensity of one's magical abilities is not dependent on heritage, as was once thought, but on the user's own ability to harness the ebb and flow of all magic in their own bodies. Through training and discipline, one can greatly increase their connection to their body's magical abilities, which have yet to be defined in either scope or limit. Further studies are ongoing in this branch of the magical arts, and for the moment it seems such statements will remain the definitive answer to such questions of magical limits. As it is, that concludes today's lesson. Any more questions, Spike?" The sunlight filtering through the windows cast odd shadows in the room, though the room itself was bright enough to see both teacher and pupil.

The pupil in question was a dragon, but no ordinary dragon at that. While most dragons lived their whole lives away from those who were not dragons, this was a different one entirely. He had been raised in the courts of Canterlot and by the reigning monarch's personal assistant for many years, until he had grown into a fine young drake. Masculine, tall and proud-looking, he had a nature about him that exuded humility but at the same time screamed of pride. Not to mention devilishly handsome, though he had yet to realize this little fact.

Spike sat up straighter in his seat, having just come out of a daydream involving ice cream, cake and gemstones. Luckily for him, his time studying with Twilight over the years had somehow left him with a near-eidetic memory, so he easily caught on what he had heard. Also luckily for him, his tutor had not noticed his daydreaming: she frowned on such inattentiveness in her classes.

"No, no princess," he said, looking up at her from his desk. Well, only because he was sitting was the reason for him looking up: in reality, he had grown taller than her by at least a few inches. Not quite as tall as her sister, but he was very close. Besides, desk was more of a relative term: he doubted most students ever had a soft, comfy chair to go along with their own table. "Is there more, Princess?"

"No, that concludes our studies on the intricacies of internal magic," the mare responded, the wings behind her rustling slightly. "Please, Spike: call me Luna. Calling me 'princess' formalizes our time together, and it is nice to not always be referred to as royalty."

"Oh, sorry Luna: it's just hard to believe it's been so long since I started tutoring under you, and that you used to insist I refer to you as "princess" all the time." The first day he had started the princess had told him she'd still be using many of the traditional teaching methods in place over a thousand years before. needless to say, Spike had learned pretty quick that when Luna said the times back then were almost martial, she meant it. Not only had he needed to take all the normal classes any student would, he had needed to take physical education courses and even learn draconic courses involving pyromancy. For the first few weeks, it felt less like an apprenticeship and more like boot camp for an aspiring royal guard. A good six months into the first part of the apprenticeship was when he saw her smile for the first time.

This time, however, she smiled sweetly as if she had for all these years. "Well, Spike, as you said, it has been a long time since you began your apprenticeship to me. I like to think of you as a friend, not just a pupil." Her wings gently rustled behind her again as she stood up from her own desk. It was larger than his own, of course, but it was rather bare of most things, save for a few notes and the odd bits of parchment and quills.

"Also, Spike, I'm afraid to say," she started said, removing her glasses and tussling up her mane a bit: "This concludes all I can teach you. It has been a joy to have such a devoted pupil, but now it is time for you to move beyond this classroom and my teachings." She never did like her mane done up in a professional-looking bun: she preferred it falling past her shoulders, just like her sister.

Spike was a bit shocked by this piece of information. Surely there was more to learn than what he had been taught in so short a time, regardless of how fast he had learned it? "Well, then, what happens now?" he asked, not sure what else he could say. "Am I going to train with your sister? Do I go out and find a job or something?" Truth be told, he had no idea which of the princesses were more learned in any subject, though he had a good inkling Celestia was more adept at governing. Call it a hunch: _she_ hadn't been absent for a solid millennia.

Luna shook her head. "I doubt there is a job anywhere in Equestria that can be suitable for your talents. Alas, we teach the same, and as royal sisters, Celestia and I always include new material to all students we happen to be teaching, so as to not teach one more than the other. It avoids the appearance of favoritism and encourages friendships, something I agree with my sister is extremely important. It would do you no good, my young dragon, to simply try and find a new teacher: I doubt there are any out there that could satisfy your thirst for knowledge. If you wish to learn more, then I am afraid," she waved her hand towards the window. "You must continue your studies outside of Equestria. In fact, that was our plan all this time, Celestia's and mine: for you to leave and grow without our interference. It is time for you to spread your wings and 'leave the roost', as they say in the Griffin Kingdom."

"L-leave?" Spike asked, standing up in neither rage nor disrespect, but in shock. Plus, he had never heard that expression before: must have been one from before his time. "Am I being punished for something? Because if this is still about the basket of frogs in your desk, I said I was sorry a year ago!" While he may have a near-eidetic memory, Spike still occasionally suffered from self-doubt and panic attacks when he didn't think clearly.

Luna's look became both concerned and not a bit exasperated. "No, dear Spike, it has nothing to do with the frogs, though I remember you laughing at my scream. No, your studies _must_ continue outside of this classroom and therefore outside of my company. While it may have been my idea and my number of recommendations to my sister that this is now possible, I believe it was meant to be all along: you may call it destiny, if you so wish."

"Why is that?" Spike asked, leaning against the wall and looking out of the tower's window. The lands stretched out before him: he could even see Ponyville from up here. His wings rustled slightly against his back as he stared: they had grown in a few months after his apprenticeship began, and he had been ecstatic. Finally, to feel the breeze rush through his spines as he soared through the skies: now he knew why Rainbow Dash was so upbeat all the time.

"Celestia needs to show our citizens there is a world outside of our beloved kingdom, and few are willing or capable of making undergoing such a trial," Luna said. "We need someone to go out there and take detailed notes, meet dignitaries, explore distant countries and nations with diplomatic immunity, or at least some semblance of it. Sadly, this would normally require the attentions of a royal alicorn, and as my sister and I are extremely busy all of the time, there isn't really another choice to be had."

She held up her hand as Spike opened his mouth. "No, Cadence is busy running the Crystal Kingdom as well as her two children: among all of the other known nations from which we have actual contact with, we remain on the best terms with them. As for the others, we only really know of a few: Saddle Arabia, the Kingdom of Equineland, the Kingdom of the Griffins, the Minotaur Khanate and the Dragon Kingdom. We know there are other kingdoms out there, and we have had contact with them in the past, but truth be told, we know so little about them." This was true neough: other than citizens from other parts of Equestria, there were few visitors to Canterlot form other countries, and even less royalty.

"Then why me?" Spike asked, feeling she was leaving something out. Travelling the world might be fun, even an awesome adventure, but the reason as to why he was being chosen still eluded him. He still felt that he wasn't the right choice for so monumental a task: surely somepony else could do it better?

"You are a citizen of Equestria, a personal representative of both royalty and a powerful magical order, and your mindset is perfect for the job," Luna said. "You are dutiful, inquisitive, sensitive, cheerful, brave, trustworthy and selfless. you are easy to befired, easy to get along with, and rather noble, if I do say so myself. If one creature comes closest to representing all the Elements of Harmony without actually having their power, you would likely be it, my young drake."

Spike blushed slightly: compliments like that were out of his realm of experience. "You really think I can do this?" he asked, rubbing a shoulder slightly as he felt his confidence build inside him. "I mean, leave Equestria, my home? It seems an awfully big responsibility."

"Yes, Spike, I have the utmost confidence in you," Luna replied, looking up at him: her eyes were filled with determination. "You'll be leaving in a few days' time: I suggest you get your affairs all settled out with your friends before so. It might be a while before you see them again, and in that time, you might have changed more than you would believe." She cleared her throat, indicating she had much more to say than just fond farewells and compliments.

"First things first: you'll be traveling on the train to Manehattan, and from there you will go by sea to the shores of Equineland, where your friend Pip is from. From there, you'll travel through Portucolt, Spreign, Prance, southern Germareny, Austria and Neightaly, though what you do in each place may vary greatly. I hear the locals are particularly friendly, and I highly suggest a visit to Roam: it is a very old city full of wonder." She blinked, as if lost in thought: perhaps she had been there before, in the distant past?

"From the southern tip of Neightaly, you'll take another ship to northern Algereigns, then travel with a caravan down through the Samarea Desert. It will be long and rather difficult: it _is_ the largest desert in the world, after all. From there, you'll journey through Sudan, Ethiopia, Kenya and Manzania to Maredagasca, a tropical island paradise. Then, from there, you'll be going along the coastline back up to Saddle Arabia, both to travel by the safest route and to meet an old friend of Celestia's. From there, you'll journey to the city of Baghdad, a center of philosophy and magical learning. After that, you'll follow the river Neighras up through the Ottomare Empire, entering Istanbull and eventually crossing the Boshorsus Straits. From there, it's over the mountains of Trannsylmaneia and into the Grand Duchy of Marescow."

Spike knew Luna wasn't finished, but he had to interject. "I thought you said you didn't know much about these countries." Judging from Luna's description, he'd be seeing far more than he had ever dreamed of.

Luna sighed slightly. "No, Spike, we don't. I have only been to a few of these places, and the rest remain a mystery. We only know these others as names on a diagram, plots on a map." She paused. "Not remotely what I meant." Spike was nonplussed as to what she had meant by that statement's mention of "plots", but he remained silent.

She cleared her throat and continued. "From there you'll travel down along the Claspian Sea to the borders of the Maresian Empire. Along there, you'll travel the Silk Roads through the lands of Maregolia to the lands of China, under the rule, as far as we know of, of the Chairmare Wao. You'll make a loop through the Nippon Shogunate, and then travel south to the coasts of Tailand and Myanmare. Once you make it there, it's through India, home of the Mughal Elephants. After visiting for a while, you'll go back through Myanmare and travel along Papau New Filli, where you'll take a ship to the lands of the Minotaurs, Griffins and finally, the dragons. After that, you will return home to Equestria, likely laden with whatever you have collected on your journeys." Talk about a sojourn: Luna was even slightly out of breath after finishing the marathon list of his destinations.

Spike felt positively overwhelmed, almost to the point of panic: he was going all around the world, expected to take notes and possibly even pictures, and return home in one piece. How in the name of Celestia was he supposed to do any of this? Where would he get money for food? Would he be staying with anyone outside of Saddle Arabia? Just what was he supposed to _do_?

"Now I know this seems a terribly daunting task, but it is necessary for you to come out into your own," a new voice said. Spike and Luna looked at the door of the room as Celestia walked in, her hair as radiant as ever. "I believe you will help many others in your journeys, Spike. After all, a generous and helpful dragon such as yourself can understand the implications if a traveler brings nothing but goodwill and charity with him wherever he goes. Do you have any questions pertaining to the trip?"

Spike was dumbstruck for the longest time. He honestly hadn't the foggiest idea of what he was going to do besides take notes or pictures. "What of the locals?" he asked slowly. "What can I expect of them?" He was easily to befirend, but if they were unfriendly, or Celestia forbid afraid of dragons, he might be in for some difficulties.

"Ah, yes: that," Luna said, blushing slightly. "You will be staying with respective leaders in all or most of these countries, whether they are political, business, religious or military." She seemed awfully suspicious when she had said "staying with", or so Spike thought to himself. "They all vary by region or even city, so expect the unexpected." Sure: _that_ was easy to do.

"Spike," Celestia said slowly, walking over so that she stood by Luna. "I know this is a rather personal question, but are you... seeing anyone, by chance?" Well, that was indeed personal.

"No...," Spike replied slowly, still confused but feeling vaguely uneasy. Why did that matter? His time as Luna's student had left him little time to create a relationship, and he had been more focused on his studies than the fairer sex. Maybe some of Twilight's persona had rubbed off on him: all study and no play.

"Well, then this will make things much simpler," Celestia said. "I hate to drop the bomb on you at such an awkward time, but you, Spike, are of no common blood."

"...Huh?" Well, that certainly was bomb to drop, if Spike could have understood just what she had said. "Not common blood? You mean like, I have a rare blood type for a dragon?"

"You are royalty, Spike," Luna said with a small smile. "In fact, there is a secret you have been kept from this whole time. You grandfather, Onyx the Wise, co-ruled Equestria with us for hundreds of years, though only in secret. Where we were the faces of the kingdom after the fall of Discord, he managed all of its various citizens on a microscopic scale, taking care of the small things whilst we handled the large ones. His son, and by correlation your father, Razor the Dutiful, filled his father's role for hundreds more years after he went to rule with the Dragon Council."

This certainly was a bombshell, but this immediately brought something to Spike's mind. "So what happened to them? Why have I never heard of these two dragons before?"

"They are both deceased, Spike," Celestia said quietly. "Onyx was far older than either of us when he passed on long ago, and Razor died of a terrible sickness shortly after you were laid. He gave us you before he died, declaring you his heir and us your legal guardians. We kept you with us, unable, and frankly, not wanting to hatch you until we were certain we could raise you."

"But I thought dragon eggs hatched when the time was right, and with a bit of magic to boot?" Spike asked. Luna shook her head.

"We tried hatching you once, long ago, but as you say, the time was not right and not even our combined magics could undo the time of your arrival. So we watched and waited." She sounded a bit dissapointed at their failure.

"But Luna, you were banished to the moon when you became Nightmare Moon," Spike said, confused. "Wouldn't that kind of, I don't know, impair things?" The princess had long ago gotten over her misdeeds of the past and had accepted that she was not the same pony who had fallen to such dark urges.

"Yes, but we still kept in communique, my dear pupil," Luna said. "There were others besides me that helped look after you as an egg: Cadence, for example, watched over you for a few years before becoming a foalsitter. Then Twilight Sparkle hatched you with her raw, innate magic, and we realized the time had come to begin your slow but sure ascent to adulthood, and eventually, royalty." Luna spoke highly of Twilight, as the two were fast friends; nothing more, despite what the tabloids might have lead others to believe.

"So does that make me a...king?" Spike asked warily. That would make things seem awfully cliche...

To his surprise, both of the princesses lightly laughed. "No Spike, you are not some long-lost king," they said. "That would be a bit ridiculous, don't you think? A long-lost heir to a throne you'd have to reclaim, being held and molded by princesses of another kingdom? This isn't a fairy tale, this is real life, even though some might view it as such. _You_ are a prince of the land, and as such, you have a royal responsibility to maintain your line, as will we in given time."

Wait... maintain his line? "What do you mean by that?" Spike asked, suddenly having an idea as to where this was going. He had read up in his history lessons on kings of old, and the prevailing feature all of them needed was an heir to carry on their name...

"You know how skewed the gender ratio is in Equestria, Spike," Celestia said. "Mares outnumber stallions by a wide margin. As such, in many places a stallion must take a herd, or harem, in your case." That was true enough: the magic of Equestria threw the natural ratio slightly off-kilter: something to do with the magic pervading the landscape. This porblem had indeed been a source of contention in the past, though as of now it wasn't something on the forefront of pony's minds.

"A-a harem?" Spike asked, his eyes going wide. "You mean I-I have to take more than one wife? But I'm only nineteen! I've never so much as kissed a girl, never mind marry one!"

"Consider yourself lucky, Spike," Celestia said. "Most princes have to take brides when they are fourteen or fifteen, with many of them being fathers _before_ they reach their twenties. Many are betrothed the day they are born: we had the foresight to deny you these kinds of luxuries, or burdens, from a certain point of view. Still, a handsome young dragon such as yourself should have no trouble having mares fall at your heels." A troubling notion, given the way she looked at him. The young dragon all of a sudden felt rather... uncomfortable, but her look soon disappeared, and he relaxed slightly.

"But why royalty? Why me?" Spike asked, not even feeling mad: simply confused, and perhaps a bit bashful at such a compliment. "I'm still just... me." Still, why keep such a monumental thing such as this a secret? Why keep him in the dark all these years?

"Because letting you know all of this too early on would have changed who you are and who you have come to be," Luna said, as if she had read his mind. "Your strength of character and your tenacity to endure, even under harsh conditions, is proof enough we have succeeded in making you prince material without giving you princely power. As you have earned what is yours, you value and treasure it more highly than other royalty would, like our nephew Prince Blueblood. This is why you are going on your expedition: to explore not only the world, but yourself."

"And to find suitable brides," Celestia said with a giggle. She seemed awfully set on him coming back with brides: could it be she wanted royal children to spend time with, as she had none of her own? That would certainly explain why she adored visiting her niece's two foals in the Crystal Empire.

There was a pause between the trio, with the cogs in Spike's head turning like mad: any faster, and they likely would fracture and fly apart. "So, when I go on this, I have to find, fall in love with, and bring along a gaggle of mares who are to be my brides?" he asked.

"It is decidedly so," Luna said, glancing over at her sister. "Is there a limit on how many he is required to take with him, dear sister? The laws of the ancient times have changed, I presume."

Celestia simply shrugged. "There is a minimum of three required, but as to the maximum number of brides, there are no set boundaries. I would think as many as he could handle would be the optimal number." Oh yeah: that was _really_ helpful. She appeared to be in thought for a second. "Spike, just so you know, you do not have to marry them on the spot-,"

"Oh thank the sun," Spike thought to himself. Dragging around brides all across the world would likely be the death of him. Perhaps he could hold off on some, if not all, until he returned with them to Equestria?

"But that does not mean you have to keep your hands to yourself," Celestia finished, a wide grin spilling onto her face. "You should have no trouble deciphering just what that entails, my boy. Take care now, and do try and enjoy yourself." With that, she left the room without another word, leaving Spike and Luna alone once more. The silence immediately after her departure was, frankly, mortifying, though it soon became rather normal once more.

They sat in said silence for a few minutes, not really sure what else to say. "Well, I'd better tell Twilight and the others," Spike said, standing up. "They're in Canterlot anyway for one of Rarity's fashion shows. I'd better tell them afterwards: when they're all happy and whatnot."

"Then go to them, my star pupil," Luna said, going up to him and giving him an affectionate hug, her chest pressing into his. "By the time you return, I'm sure they'll be thoroughly amazed as to what you will have seen and done."

That would prove to be the understatement of the century.


	2. All Aboard

Chapter Two

All Aboard

Suitable to say, the Mane Six were shocked by Spike's revelation. Well, shocked may be an understatement, judging from their immediate reactions. Rarity had fainted dead away upon the news that Spike was royalty, while the ever-excitable Pinkie had literally almost exploded when Spike said he was leaving and wanted a going-away party. Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash wished him the best of luck, though Fluttershy seemed a bit awed and jealous by the number of things he had to do and see, including all the wildlife he would undoubtedly encounter. Applejack also wished him the best of luck, though she was concerned about how he was traveling, and so far from home as well. He had been very helpful on the farm when Big Mac had been sick the year before and she didn't like to see so helpful a dragon leave. it was hard pulling the plow by herself and even with Applebloom's help, it was a tiring chore more so than it would seem.

Twilight was not only the most shocked by his revelations, but was stunned by his so-called "royal duty", as he had put it. Well of course she would be stunned: to suddenly be royalty and have to marry so soon, especially before her, likely made the mare feel a bit overwhelmed. "So you have to find at least three mares to be your brides in this time, and if given the chance you'll be taking _more_ than that?" she had asked him several times over. She had especially focused on the "more than three" aspect the princesses had left so delightfully vague. "Genetically speaking, Equestria _could_ use some new blood, but why in the name the princesses would they choose you to go, Spike? Is this some sort of test?" Still, Spike wasn't going to explain that part any more than he was going to try and explain the reasoning behind the decision-making of the princesses.

"Yes, Twilight, I _must_ take on at least three wives" Spike said with a tone of exasperation, ignoring the test quip. It was always about tests with he, it seemed. "The princesses believed it was time for me to do this, and they seem to have the utmost confidence in me. This journey is not just for me, but for the betterment of all of Equestria. You of all ponies should know just how much weight that can carry." Never mind that this trip could take years if he was unlucky enough, and at least they didn't send him when he was old enough to have pseudo aches and pains, even though he'd outlive many of his friends.

Twilight finally seemed a bit more relaxed, or at least "settled down" when the party finally began, but she refused to leave Spike's side the whole time. Frankly, it was a bit embarrassing: it was like she was the over-protective older sister and he was just a baby dragon again. "Just make sure you'll be in contact with us all the time," she told him several times during the night. "I don't want to wake up one morning and find you've been hurt or worse." Seriously, she would not let the topic slide, not even for a minute: it was aggravating to say the least, but at least she showed she cared, if a bit too much.

"Yes, Twilight, I'll keep in contact with the princesses and you," Spike said for the final time shortly before they all went to bed. Still, his sleep was anything but restful, as his body had changed so much from when he was younger; he was still discovering just what he could do. Not that any of the others were any help, least of all Twilight. He loved them all, but sometimes he thought they were just clueless: why, he had no idea. Maybe being one of the bearers of the Elements of Harmony wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Then again, they had stressful lives, more-so than most ponies: cutting them some slack would probably do them some good.

So it was with a still groggy mind that he left early the next morning, giving his friends one last wave of goodbye from the train platform. Of course they had offered to help him pack and said he shouldn't leave without more supplies, but the princesses had been clear on all he needed, and had suitably prepared him for what lied ahead. Applejack was a bit unhappy she couldn't shove any pies or fritters in his pack, but she got over it when some ponies at the station offered to buy them from her. He took one long last look out at Canterlot and Ponyville far below it: he would not return for what seemed like an age. Soon enough he rounded a corner and lost sight of the magnificent castle and the fields below it. Settling into his seat, he watched as the scenery flew by the window, alone in his compartment, with only his pack and few supplies to keep him company. He debated what to do, but he realized he couldn't start writing any sort of a journal now: he had barely left home. Later, when he was suitably farther than most ponies had ever gone, would he begin his travel log.

Quietly he began musing over the things the others had wanted him to do in his spare time all over the world. Rainbow Dash had wanted pictures of old military stuff, like helmets and armor: as to why, she remained a bit cryptic, stating it was a hobby of hers. Fluttershy had wanted descriptions and pictures of various sorts of exotic creatures, though it had taken nearly all day for her to ask Spike for this favor. Applejack had asked for any new kinds of apples and their seeds, so she could expand Sweet Apple Acres with new products. Pinkie had simply asked for balloon designs from exotic places: when asked why, she simply said she wanted to make "super fantastic parties even better!" Rarity had been perhaps the most challenging: designs of any kind from around the world and any fabrics he came across. Spike could already tell she would not be satisfied unless he brought back a metric ton of the stuff, and even then that might not be enough. Twilight had been last, and hers was simple: in addition to keeping in contact with them, he'd bring back any manuscripts, texts or descriptions of spells he happened to find on his way across the world. "For studying purposes", she had said, but Spike secretly believed she wanted to expand the Royal Canterlot Library so much it would include a wing designated by herself. So hours passed as he sat alone and did nothing, partly out of boredom and partly because he was so wrapped in thought.

That was, until a voice spoke at the open door. It wasn't that of the trolley mare, who had passed by awhile back with some delicious sweets: it was somepony else.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken? All of the other cabins are full."

Spike looked up to see a light-blue unicorn standing there with a pack of her own, her white mane falling to her shoulders. Her white skirt and blouse complimented her fur nicely, but the earrings seemed a bit tacky: too showy for one such as herself. She seemed awfully familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe she was related to someone down in Ponyville or back in Canterlot? There were always relatives from around Equestria visiting families in these parts.

"No," Spike said, moving his legs so the unicorn could sit down. Placing her pack next to the window, she looked out at the scenery, and then at Spike.

"So where are you headed?" she asked in a casual manner, taking off her gloves and placing them in her pack. They were the kind that fit tightly on one's hands, and judging from her polished red fingernails, she only wore them when she moved around, so as not to damage or weather the gloss.

"Manehattan for now, then to Equineland, and then off across the world," Spike said, still trying to figure out where he had seen this unicorn before. "Part of a mission by the princesses for me to do this. I'm Spike, by the way." They shook hands, with Spike noticing how smooth hers felt.

The unicorn's eyes widened at this as her hand dropped. "You're going around the world?" she asked, grinning at the thought of seeing so much. "Sounds like quite an adventure, handsome. You must really be in the good graces of the rulers of Equestria to be provided with such an opportunity."

Spike nodded, feeling she didn't need to know about the whole "finding-wives" bit, or the royal attachments. That could prove most awkward, and from her slightly shifting body language, that wasn't a good thing to say. "Yes, I'm sure it will be quite something indeed," Spike said, glancing at the clock. "So tell me about yourself: I told you about what I'm off to do, after all."

The unicorn blushed slightly: whether out of embarrassment or something else, he didn't know. "Well, I'm in the entertainment business, you might say," she said. "A performer of sorts, traveling from place to place, performing all sorts of tricks for ponies. I've been doing for some time, but only within the last few years has it proven a rather successful venture. Getting booked for performances now is like a dream come true: ponies flock to the stage to see me. Its rather flattering, to be honest."

As she continued, Spike's eyes casually roamed over her figure. She was shorter than he, with curves in all the right places. Nothing too large or small: average, if not ever-so-slightly above. Overall, very attractive for one who had no rings on a finger: single, perhaps? Wait, how had his mind progressed to this train of thought? Maybe Celestia's talk of brides was spurring some sort of mental maturity? He knew dragons progressed differently in life than other creatures, both mentally and physically: all it needed was a trigger.

Spike came back to the conversation, just as the unicorn finished a question. "Mmm, sorry, could you repeat that?" he asked. "I was lost in thought."

"Are you seeing anyone, mister?" she asked, her eyes also going over his body. Wow, it seemed they were experiencing the same trains of thought. It must be Spike's magnetism: all the mares had crooned over him as a baby, so now they crooned over him as an adult: different kind, of course.

"No, not currently," Spike replied, thankful the princesses had taught him manners of the more... personal degree. Nothing hands-on, of course, but all the essentials had been covered: had they been preparing him for things like this without him even noticing? They were sly indeed: no wonder none of her subjects thought about a different form of government. The princesses were too good and cared for their kingdom with so much whole-hearted enthusiasm that simply nopony ever dreamed of a different kind of leadership. "Are you?"

"Not currently," she replied, leaning a bit closer. "My career doesn't often permit long-lasting relationships, and more often than not stallions don't feel like traveling all over the country with me. Most can't handle the stress of never staying in once place too long, or leaving friends and family behind. I don't blame them: it is a rather difficult life to get used to." She was silent for a moment. "At the risk of seeming to forward, I must say you are a most handsome dragon indeed." Well, he was likely the _only_ dragon she had seen, but a compliment was still a compliment.

Spike felt his temperature, well, spike, to say the least. Quick: he had to say something, preferably charming. "You're not so bad yourself," he replied, watching as her horn glowed. To him it sounded rather corny, but it must have done the trick: perhaps this whole "relationship building" thing wasn't as difficult as he had imagined. Within a second, the door locked and drapes were drawn, leaving them in the soft light of the outside setting sun.

"To tell you the truth, I'm not looking for a solid relationship right now anyway," she said, leaning closer. "I'm just looking for a good lay, and frankly, mister dragon, you'd fill the bill nicely." Her lips were oh so close, her eyes becoming lidded with lust. This was it: they were entering the danger zone.

"I'm would be glad to help you, miss," Spike said, his voice an octave lower than before. He had passed the threshold through which there was no foreseeable return. "In any way I can."

And then she struck, pouncing on Spike while smashing her lips down onto his. It was sudden, unexpected, and really, really... _hot._

Spike fell backwards in his seat, his arms naturally reaching up to grab the unicorn so as to stabilize themselves. One hand found the middle of her lower back, while the other gripped a rather firm ass cheek. She moaned delightfully into his mouth as their tongues danced and battled for supremacy. Spike was a virgin: of that he was completely sure. This was his first kiss, for crying out loud, but he had learned well under his teachers and from all the books he had read. His free time had consisted of manners and etiquette, both in public and in a more... _private_ manner. As such, when the unicorn came up for air, she was gasping in a delighted manner.

"You kiss... really well," she panted, pushing some of her white mane out of her eyes.

"I must be a natural," Spike said with a grin, his hand giving her buttocks another light squeeze. Her hands flashed up to his chest, undoing the buttons along his shirt at a somewhat frantic pace.

"More," she said, giving him another deep kiss. "I need more. You've become like a drug, and right now, I'm _hooked_." Spike's hand on her lower back began to undo the zipper of her blouse. Yes, a zipper on a blouse: thankfully it wasn't clasps, or he'd have been there all day.

"Then I'll give you more, so as to satisfy your cravings," he muttered back through her mouth as their tongues danced with one another's. All the while she pulled at his shirt, he could feel something starting to grow down below.

The unicorn's other hand had made its way to his belted pants while the other pulled off his shirt. Feeling over the area most private to him, she let out a small gasp. "Umm," she said, breaking off the kiss. "Just... how big are you?" She sounded almost... afraid.

"Big enough to please you, but I'm sure it's nothing you can't handle," Spike said, pulling her close as her blouse opened up completely in the back. Suddenly, to his surprise, her horn glowed. With a burst of her magic, the unicorn's clothes disappeared entirely, as did Spike's.

"I'm too horny, and frankly not patient enough, to keep up this game," she said, a devilish grin washing over her face. "I'm going to- oh!"

Her words and her grin were cut off by... something rising up between the pair. "Is that... is that your...?" the unicorn was unable to speak, her eyes going wide at the sight of Spike's second tail.

Well, that's how any mare would describe it, after all. It was massive, and rather intimidating, to say the least. Spike, being a virgin up to this point, had no idea just how truly different dragon anatomy was from the average stallion. Whereas an average stallion might have a five or six inch penis, and a big one like Big Macintosh might be around eight or so inches, Spike's was at least _ten_ glorious inches. Knobby and ridged in texture but not overly so, it was the same color as he was: purple. The girth, however, was unlike that of a normal stallion's: the whole thing was thick to the point of looking painful to even try.

"... _wow_," the unicorn said, reaching down slowly with an expression of awe on her face. Spike had a good inkling he was large, judging from her reaction, so he did what all the books had told him to do. Reaching up to her bosom, he removed the hand from her lower back and placed it on one breast, while taking the other one's nipple in his mouth. Erogenous zones had been finely detailed in some of his private books, but experiencing them firsthand beat any kind of self-tutoring. The nipples were soft and felt tender to his touch, and the pelt covering her breasts was like a fine pillow casing.

The unicorn let out a sudden squeal, soft but more than loud enough to get the point cross: well done, Spike. Spike himself grunted in response to her hand partially wrapping itself around his shaft: nobody had ever done that to him before. She slowly pumped him up and down, her delicate hands maintaining a not-too-delicate grip on him.

"Spike," she said, her breath fleeting as they continued to fondle one another. "Are you a virgin?" She sounded almost embarrassed to ask, as if his obvious charm had been used to do this before.

"Yes," Spike replied without an ounce of dishonesty. "This is my first time." He didn't ask her to be gentle: why, he didn't know. Maybe it was some subconscious alpha male persona telling him to keep up appearances. Maybe part of him just wanted to rut her senseless.

The blue mare didn't say anything for a while, only grinding into him more and more. "Please," she whispered after what felt like five minutes. "Spike, please."

"Please what?" Spike asked, switching to the other nipple as both hands went down to squeeze the light blue unicorn's ass cheeks. The wings on his back rustled slightly: luckily for him, they were the complete opposite of fragile and could only feel what others would call great pain. Other than that, they could handle anything normal he threw at them.

"Please!" she moaned, grinding against him: if her tone was any indication, she had not gotten any good sex in a long time. "Put your massive dragon cock inside me!" Ooh, dirty talk: such a turn-on when said right. He could feel her getting wetter from this relatively tame form of foreplay, but he wanted this, and he could tell without a doubt she did too.

Raising her up over his skyward-facing shaft with his powerful arms, he slowly lowered her onto it, her tight confines gripping him as he went in. "Ooh, ooh," she moaned, her voice growing louder with every passing inch. "So big! So... good! Gah!"

Spike drew in a sharp breathe: this was simply amazing! She squeezed him from all directions, it seemed, and she was softer than he could have dreamed. Her juices coated his member, giving him extra lubrication of a natural kind: the best kind.

Finally, after seeming like an hour of agonizingly slow penetration, the unicorn swallowed up his whole shaft in her private confines. They both sat there, simply breathing and taking in this new feeling. The blue unicorn had never been filled like this before, and Spike had never experienced something like this. Her body continued to produce copious amounts of fluid to lubricate the massive _thing_ inside her.

Slowly, ever-so-slowly, Spike began to pump the blue mare up and down his aching shaft, feeling an all-too-early release beginning to build. He had to finish her off quick, or else he'd be incredibly embarrassed for finishing so soon. Even for his first time, he wanted to feel like his partner had been done before he was.

"Oh my!" the mare said, breathing quickly as Spike pumped her up and down on his shaft. He was strong: she had to give him that. But this was too slow, even for her. Placing her hands on his chest, she raised herself against his grip and slammed down on him, causing her entire body to shake. In Spike's surprised face, at any rate, her bosom swayed enticingly in front of him.

Then she did it again, and again, and again, until she had a fast and strong rhythm built up. Spike gave up trying to push her onto him, so instead he grabbed breasts and administered to them, tweaking the nipples while he suckled on and off. If they had been on a bed, it would have been squeaking with the force of their love-making. But seeing as how the train was rocking with or without their help, all they did was make thumping noises.

The unicorn started gasping faster just as Spike felt himself losing control. With a great squeal of satisfaction and completion, the mare leaned back and gave a few hard downward thrusts, clamping down of Spike's member with surprising force. That sent him over the edge, and with his shaft buried deep within her, he let loose his torrent of dragon seed, like a dam bursting forth.

They sat there for a few moments, Spike in awe of what he had just done, and the unicorn feeling so full and content. Every pulse, every spurt of dragon seed seemed to be amplified by her constricting marehood. Then, the blue mare slumped over onto Spike's chest, breathing heavily as her lower half twitched from the sheer pleasure of their fornication.

"That... was... heavenly," she said, giving him a peck on the cheek. "I should take the train more often."

"As should I," Spike replied, locking lips with her as he pulled her up towards him a bit more. As they lay there, covered in sweat and other bodily fluids, the unicorn gave a small squeak.

"Is it... is it possible?" she asked, looking down between them. Spike was no longer a virgin, but he was still young. His shaft began to harden once more between the pair, looking ready for another round.

"Again?" Spike asked, the hint of a devious smile gracing his face.

The unicorn smiled and pushed herself upwards off of his chest. "You're on, stud. Only this time," she said, getting onto all fours and presenting her backside to him: "take me hard and fast."

Spike drew up onto his knees, a wide smile on his face. "With pleasure, milady," he said, lining himself up with her glistening marehood. One deep thrust was all it took for the blue unicorn to nearly scream in ecstasy. Grabbing her waist, Spike pounded into her, his shaft sliding easily into her glistening nether region. The ridge now rubbed up against her, making her feel weak simply from the feelings of pleasure coursing through her body. He could hear her breasts swing up and clap together, and in time with the clapping of his washboard abs against her pleasant rump. That cpled with her moans and soft whinnies, made him all the harder inside of her.

They continued for hours, switching positions and locations in the cabin several times before both were absolutely spent. By the time they were, though, the mare's womb was almost overflowing with the young dragon's seed: her belly was even slightly swollen at the sheer amount pumped into her. In her mind she knew she'd have to remove it with magic soon enough: she wasn't in heat, but it paid to be careful.

"Tell me," Spike said with a yawn as they settled down to sleep at last. "What's your name? I never asked." It wouldn't do good for his reputation, if she told anyone, that he was a humper and a dumper. He wanted to know just who he was with was all.

The blue unicorn was silent for a moment. "Trixie," she said, closing her eyes and sighing happily. Her soft snores soon filled the room, which her magic had thankfully locked before their romp.

Spike's eyes widened slightly at the revelation, but he was too tired to care that he already knew her from long ago. Snuggling up next to her, he too soon fell asleep, his natural body heat keeping them both warm for the night.


	3. Manehattan and Beyond

Chapter Three

Manehattan and Beyond

Of all the nights Spike had spent away from home, this had been by far the best ever. Still, his sleep had been almost as good as his... time with Trixie. Still, there was always more to come, it seemed. Spike awoke the next morning to a rather pleasurable feeling building somewhere below his waistline. Truth be told, he hadn't really ever woken up to such pleasurable feelings, so this one was somewhat of a first for him. It was as though he had never stopped having sex from the night before, and that blue unicorn mare was still grinding on him.

Oh wait: she was. Opening his eyes, Spike saw Trixie grinding her firm rear end against his morning erection as they lay together, his arms still wrapped protectively around her. He couldn't see her face, but he had a feeling her lips were curved upwards into a sly grin. He still remembered the way she was back when her days of bragging had led her to problems, but now that he was older and she herself was on the right path, he couldn't help but notice her inner beauty. Some could say beauty was only skin deep, but Spike had yet to see anything to back this up: he could see the inner fire within this mare, as he had with all of his friends.

"You woke up before me, didn't you?" he asked quietly into her ear, his hands reaching up and groping her breasts: they were deliciously firm and perky. He even flicked both of the nipples, which were hard already: didn't take much to get this mare aroused, it seemed.

"Yes indeed," she moaned, turning her head and catching his tongue in a good-morning kiss. "I know we're in a hurry, but are you up for a quickie? We've only got about twenty minutes before we arrive at the station. I know we've only met, but-,"

She gasped as he pushed all the way inside her, her words dying in her throat. "Then let's hurry," Spike replied, cutting her off and beginning to slowly pump his hips. Soon enough her soft cries filled their cabin, along with Spike's grunts. Pumping into her and squeezing her breasts brought the unicorn to a quicker release than he had thought it would: maybe he _had_ gotten better after only a few trysts.

Twenty minutes later, Spike got off the train with his pack, waving goodbye to Trixie as she went down a different street. Well, waving after he had given her a deep kiss at the train station, that is. She had slipped him her phone number, asking him to call her up whenever he got back to Equestria. Home phone, by the looks of it, but seeing as she traveled all the time, it must be the phone to her mobile house. No, not a mobile home: being a unicorn meant she could actually move around an actual house. She had said something about him visitng her after a show and maybe they could go out and have some fun. That did sound nice, buy he hadn't the heart to tell her he'd be married by the time he got back: _if_ he got back, that is. There was still a massive world to explore, after all, and he was on a mission to do so.

Following Princess Luna's instructions, he made his way through the winding streets, the old cobblestone alleys cleaner than he thought they would be. The hardened soles of his feet made almost no noise against the surface, while the hooves of passing ponies made a rather common clopping sound upon the clean stone A big city, after all, usually is described as being rather filthy in many areas. Not so with Manehattan: while there was dirt patches here and there, garbage wasn't exactly lying in the middle of the street.

Still, it paid to watch where you stepped, as some places were designated drop-offs for trash and, well...

"Ugh," Spike said, pinching his nose as he walked past a recycling plant. New paper was processed there from old paper, and frankly, the smell was borderline criminal, even with the obvious smell-deflecting spells placed all over the airspace. Why they didn't try and use magic to make old paper knew, Spike didn't know. Maybe it had already been tried and failed: not even magic could solve every problem. So he continued to walk, making sure to not breathe as much. Others who passed his way seemed to bhe doing the same thing: a few were even wearing something akin to a gas mask, though how it repelled odors along with gas was beyond Spike's comprehension.

Finally escaping the overpowering odor's zone without throwing up, Spike found himself looking upon something he had not seen in anything but books: the ocean. More specifically, the Barnlantic Ocean, the ocean across which many ponies and similar creatures came to the lands of Equestria and vice-versa.

However, Spike was doing something radically different from those other ponies. He, first and foremost, was a dragon, not a pony: chalk that up for the first difference. The second difference was that he was not going _to_Equestria _from_ some distant land: he was going _to_ distant lands _from_ Equestria. So, in order to do so, he needed a reliable mode of transport: namely, a seagoing vessel. One that would fit his needs but not be overly lavish or decorated: this technically wasn't a cause for royal fanfare and all.

Seagulls called overhead as ships came to and left the harbor. Walking down to the docks and smelling the salty air on the breeze, Spike found what he was looking for. A large frigate-type of ship, complete with sails, masts and all sorts of rigging: carved figure on the front of the ship was none other than a sea-pony. Figures: most ships had such a figure carved onto the front, usually for good luck or as a way to personalize the ship. Ponies of all kinds were climbing aboard, each showing the pass they were required to present in order for safe passage: no stowaways or freeloaders on ships like these. With passages being so long, they could only store so much food aboard and too many mouths meant many would go hungry. Curiously, the hatches were shut all along the ship: either it had no cannons, or they were hidden when in port. Likely the latter, as anyone could throw things into the ship through the hatches and make a grand mess of things.

Rummaging in his pack as he went, Spike found what he was looking for: a slip of magical paper that soon fastened itself to his forearm, the lettering showing up in bright contrast to his darker scales. Celestia herself had enchanted the paper to do this, as normal paper would be too easily lost. Best of all, not only was it painless, but it would change according to the ship or the group he was going to travel with; ingenious, really.

Walking up to the ship's captain, a rather stout fellow at that, Spike showed his pass to the stallion. Suffice to say the pony was surprised, given the look on his bearded face. Yes, he had a beard: Starswirl of legend wasn't the only pony who could grow one.

"Blimey, if it ain't the mark o' Princess Celestia 'erself," he said with an oddly thick accent: it was similar to Pip's, if a bit rougher. His arms were thick and furrier than normal and his legs, though short, seemed a bit thicker as well. Well, being stocky would definitely be an advantage on a rocking ship. He made a bowing motion to Spike, sweeping his captain's hat off his head. "I be the captain, Roan Flankstrom. Welcome aboard the _Crowhop_, Master...?"

"Just Spike, please," the young dragon replied, waving off the stallion's formal greeting. If everyone he met knew he was royalty or what he had to do, he'd be in more trouble than any of this might be worth. Besides, he wouldn't want the captain to think he was some stuck-up snob like that Prince Blueblood, now would he? He let an involuntary shudder run through him at the thought of that pompous unicorn's antics.

"Well, Master Spike, I 'ope you enjoy your stay with us," Roan replied with a smile. "The journey to Equineland will take, oh... two or three weeks, weather permittin'. That's of course if we don' experience any problems 'long the way that ain't related to the weather."

"What do you mean not weather related?" Spike asked, a bit perplexed.

"Oh, pirates, sea monsters, the occasional merpony sighting that drives the crew into a wild frenzy... The usual bollocks. Still, the journey'll be two to three weeks at any rate."

Of course the crew would go crazy at the sight of a merpony: even Spike had heard of the legends. Merponies: half dolphin and half pony, with both lungs and oddly, gills, thrown in for good measure. Said to be the most beautiful creatures in the sea, and by far the most snesual, sailors had been known to wreck their ships trying to get to the sirens, even though they never lured them in or anything like that. Many more had wasted their lives trying to find one, for it was told that they easily fell in love with any pony that crossed their fancy: only a few had been reported in history, and there had always been speculation and evidence that they were imagined or exaggerated.

Still, two to three weeks? That sure did seem long, but then again any sort of passage over open water wasn't exactly as quick as a whistle. Spike had never even been on a large sailing vessel before, but then again, there was a first time for everything. He might as well try and learn from the experience, hopefully while not getting seasick. He had an unfortunate habit of throwing up molten bits of whatever he had eaten last, and by molten, he literally meant molten: when he ate rocks, half the time they could come out like magma when he puked. "Which cabin will I be staying in?" Spike asked, hefting his bags to readjust the weight on his shoulders. Assuming there even _were_ cabins, and he wouldn't be forced to share one large room with all the other passengers, He had been in less accomodating positions before: that noisy train ride to Appeloosa, his little basket back in the library... He could handle it.

"Forty-two E, middle deck," the stallion replied, checking the notes of two other stallions booking passage: lumber-ponies, from the looks of their tools and clothing. "The best I kin offer, as this ship 'as seen better days. She's not as young as she used to be, but she's still a good ship. I've been meanin' to get her a new set o' copper plates for the bottom hull to stop those barnacles from growin'." Seems the captain sure did care for his ship, judging by the way he looked over her as he talked. It even sounded like he was talking about a beloved house, the way he mentioned weathering and wood rot.

"Well, it should be more than enough: I packed light," Spike said, giving the captain a small bow of thanks. Following a few more ponies up the ramp, he found himself stepping onto the first part of a voyage that held no clue to its possible ending. Making his way past a few crewponies, Spike walked down into what seemed to be a common room. Turning this way and that, following the door numbers, he wound his way down through the large ship's hull until he reached his room. Opening it, he walked inside and surveyed it. A wooden door, one small window peering outside, a cot and pillow, and a small desk: frankly, it was better than he had expected.

"Time to settle in," he thought, making to unpack. He hadn't packed much to begin with, as he planned on buying more supplies if he needed them, when he needed them. First he rolled out his clothes, stacking them back in the pack so they wouldn't get lost or dirty. Then the notebooks and journals from which he would send his letters came next, placed inside the desk's drawers so they too wouldn't be damaged by the rocking of the boat. After that, there wasn't much else to do, so Spike lay down on the cot, content to stay there until something new happened. The ship gently rocked in the harbor, though this only was because the seas were a bit rougher than normal. Otherwise, with the fastenings of the deck ropes to the harbor docks, the ship wouldn't have moved at all.

There was a shrill whistle from up top, and Spike, being naturally curious, made his way topside to see what the commotion was all about. Climbing up in time to duck underneath some planks being carried by a pair of stallions, he saw the crew begin to pull in the ropes anchoring the ships to the harbor dock. Their bodies heaved as the heavy ropes were pulled aboard and set up in large bundles.

"We're casting off!" Roan the captain shouted from the middle of the ship, his voice carrying surprisingly far for a pony of his stature. The crew removed the planks leading up to the ship, signifying no more passengers were coming aboard. "All hands to set sail!"

"Well, this is it," Spike thought, leaning on a railing as the ship's sails came to life. "To boldly go where no dragon has gone before." Of course, there were other dragons that had gone to nearby countries, but as far as Spike knew, he was the first to cross the Barnlantic and intend to see much of the known world. The wind in the sails caused the ship to turn away from the docks and move, picking up a good clip for a ship so large. Spike watched as he drew farther and farther from the docks, and then the city, and then the other ships coming into to port. It was all so surreal, to be going so far from home and yet not feeling all that worried. Surprisingly, he didn't feel worried at all: if anything, he was more than a bit excited. The distance soon created an image similar to a painting Spike had once seen: a coastal city, with ships sailing in and out, all the while seabirds fluttered over the white sails.

Behind Spike, a mare walked by curiously absent of any accompanying luggage, save for a small umbrella in her hand and the cloak she was wearing. Her own luggage had already been deposited down below in her cabin, though nobody had really remembered seeing her do so. She looked at Spike from the corner of her eye, so as not to arouse any suspicion. If it had been off anyone could have seen her odd wings, and for her sake the hood thankfully hid the jagged-looking horn protruding from her head.

"There he is," she thought to herself, settling down on an unoccupied bench on the far side of the ship's deck. "The heir to the seat of Onyx the Wise, destined co-ruler of Equestria and friend to the bearers of the Elements of Harmony: Spike the dragon." She tittered to herself: such titles may have been fanciful to more common folk, but she was a queen, and as a queen she had grown distasteful of such trappings, even though they provided useful services from time to time. Her underlings had long since learned to respect her decisions no matter the objective or consequence, as those who did not follow them were often... severely punished.

Queen Chrysalis continued to look over at the dragon, plans forming in her mind. If she could bend him to her will, she would have an invaluable asset within the very core of Equestria's power structure. Any future invasion or takeover attempt would be infinitely more refined, more subtle, and much, much more likely to succeed. Plus, if he slipped far enough under her spell, he'd fight to keep her safe, even at the sake of his friends and adopted family: deliciously evil one might say. Chrysalis certainly agreed: the look on Celestia's face when her kingdom fell to the Changeling hordes and a mind-controlled dragon would be priceless indeed.

But first and foremost, she had to get close to him: very, _very_ close. Subtly casting a "no-noticing" spell over herself, she went to work on her disguise. It would have to be a more permanent one than the one used for the wedding of Shining Armor and that Princess Cadence, and since his Spike didn't have a powerful unicorn with him, detection would be much less likely. Still, it paid to be cautious, and being such a young dragon, she should have no trouble curling him around her little finger.

Her height would remain the same: as tall as he was, but the horn would need to be shorter and look like an average unicorn's, so that was the first part to change. With two small squishing noises, the wings retreated into her back, since an alicorn would be too suspicious and arouse far too many unneeded questions. Her figure, slender and womanly, would still be there, though she trimmed a bit of the weight off her thighs: even she was not immune to vanity. Her fur, black as coal from within the earth, became a shimmering shade of green, like a beautiful emerald. Her mane thus became black as raven's feathers, both to complement her green eyes and to make her seem a tad more exotic, though not overly so. Her breasts, larger than average but not incredibly so, sagged slightly: it made them seem more natural than the extreme perkiness they displayed in her natural form.

There: finished. Now only she or some extremely powerful magic could undo this transformation, and now it was time to put things into motion. Her compartment on that train had been right next to Spike's and that blue unicorn he had spent the night _and_ the morning with. She had heard everything, including all of the obviously amazing sex: that was at least one avenue she was entirely open to taking advantage of. She hadn't had a good lay in so long that seducing the young dragon would definitely be on her mind. Still, she would need to make it gradual, seem genuine: too quick and it would be a simple fling for him. Too late, and he might have moved onto someone else to marry as his first. Besides, an immediate love spell wouldn't work on so powerful a creature: the last time a changeling queen had tried this, it had taken every female family member she had to do so.

Yes, she knew about his so-called royal duty: one of her finest changeling spies had been an attendee at the dragon's going-away party, disguised as some random pony from Ponyville. They had brought back the news as soon as everyone else had gone to sleep, and Chrysalis had slipped aboard the train while Spike was bidding his friends goodbye.

Ugh, his friends, those Mane Six, the Elements of Harmony: always throwing wrenches into one's plans. Well, Twilight Sparkle, at any rate: finding her former babysitter and getting her to stop the wedding between Chrysalis and Shining Armor. he had been an average stallion, something Chrysalis had not been thoroughly impressed by, and if this Trixie's moans were anything to go by, Spike was _anything_ but ordinary. This new plan would be a most delicious revenge, taking control over her best friend: no, her adopted _brother_. Then she would destroy Canterlot and all of Equestria from the inside out, and then, only then, would she reveal herself when all hope had been lost. It was the perfect plan, much more so than her earlier one had been.

Silently, she let the "no-noticing" spell slip away, though nobody was even looking in her direction as the ship rocked back and forth. Walking across the ship, she removed her hood and opened her cloak a bit more, letting the crosswind hit her clothes. She had chosen to travel in rather normal clothes: woolen jeans, an undershirt and a light sweatshirt, the kind a relative might buy for a holiday present. Still, she had to admit, she did look good, judging from the occasional glance a few crewmen threw her way.

Chrysalis walked up to Spike's side, not saying a word as she too leaned on the ship's wooden railing. "Strange, isn't it? I never thought I'd go anywhere outside of my home town," she said eventually, loud enough to catch Spike's attention.

"Where are you from?" Spike asked casually, glancing her way to acknowledge her presence.

"A small town a ways south of Manehatten: Trotten." She had researched her role carefully, as making up a place was out of the question. She had been able to glean enough information about the place from her changeling spies, so if anypony actually from there met her, she'd be able to tell them all they wanted to know.

"So what brings you out to Equineland?" Spike asked, turning around and leaning backwards on the rail, his posture nonchalant. "It is a rather long haul: surely you're not just going on a whim?"

She did the same move: it was time to place the bait. "I always wanted to see the world outside of Equestria, you know? Go places I've only heard about, see things other ponies have only dreamed about." She let a small, sad smile grace her face. "Too bad this is all I can afford."

"Afford?" Spike asked, a bit curious. _Excellent, he had taken the bait. Now to reel him in..._

"Yes, I only have enough bits to pay for passage to Equineland, stay there a while, and then to come back home to my dozens of relatives," she said, saying "relatives" with a small amount of weariness. "I couldn't afford to go through Prance and southern Germareny, and I always wanted to visit Saddle Arabia. See the sights, experience the culture, just get away from it all back at home, you know? Still, one must take advantage of one's opportunities, I suppose."

Her tone and her story made Spike feel sorry for the mare. She had wanted to go on the very same trip he was now undertaking, but due to financial difficulties, her dreams were far out of her reach. He, on the other hand, was going around the world, with most if not all of his financial difficulties being taken care of by his sovereign's, or technically co-sovereign's magic. If only there was some way he could make her dreams come true...

Wait, there was! Celestia never said he couldn't take companions with him where he went, and seeing as he wasn't yet looking for a bride...

"I think I can make your dreams a reality, miss," Spike said. "I myself am on such a journey as what you speak of, and I was looking for a companion with which to come with me. Would you happen to be interested?"

"You are?" the unicorn asked, turning her face to meet Spike's, a great big look of surprise lighting up in her eyes. "I mean... You would do that for me?"

"Sure, why not?" Spike asked. "A troubled soul such as yourself deserves to experience her dreams. So, what do you say: partners?" He held out his hand.

Tentatively, she shook it, though her insides were doing the mare-carena at her success. Well, the marecarena and the limbo, to be precise. "I would be glad to accompany you, mister...?"

"Spike, ma'am: Spike the dragon," he replied.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Spike the dragon," she said. "You can call me... Meia: Meia Morphos." She was silent for a second. "My parents had an odd penchant for even odder names."

"I don't think it's odd at all," Spike said. "Pleased to meet you, Meia."

So begun the journey across the Barnlantic, with Spike the dragon, destined co-ruler of Equestria, and Meia Morphos, AKA Chrysalis, Queen of the Changelings.


	4. Through the Sea to Distant Shores

Chapter Four

Through the Sea to Distant Shores

The spray of the sea water against his porthole woke Spike up the next day. He had barely fallen asleep the night before, as the rocking of the boat, though comforting, was offset by the noise of the water splashing against the hull. His dreams had simply been a kaleidoscope of his friends, of books, and all sorts of building he had seen in manuscripts.

Rising from his bed with a yawn, Spike scratched his lower back as he dressed himself. Yes, he slept in the nude, though thankfully nobody had barged in on him while he dressed: morning wood was always a pain stuffing in clothes when one was as "gifted" as he was. Thankfully the "swelling" went down quickly when he thought of his task at hand and the journey he was partaking in.

Walking out of his room with a journal and locking the door behind him, the young dragon made his way past other rooms and to a common room of sorts, where ponies could sit and talk from the comfort of being below-deck. It was dark, as the lamps from last night had gone out long ago, but due his draconic heritage Spike had something no ponies had: night vision. To him, the room might have been lit by the brightest of lamps, so he walked around with nary an effort.

Settling himself in a chair with his journal, he opened it to realize he had not brought a quill and ink with him. "No matter," he thought, remembering his lessons with the princesses. Holding up a finger, Spike gave it a small lick before turning a page. He breathed the smallest bit of flame onto the tip of a talon, the magic in the fire making his finger a veritable writing tool. Cozying up as well as he could in the chair, he began to write.

"_The story begins aboard my ship, the Crowhop. There are ponies here of all kinds, from earth ponies to unicorns and pegasi, though they are the rarity among the group. Flying is quite the advantage when traveling, it seems. The captain, a good fellow, seems the journey won't take more than two to three weeks. Given how far we've only come, I'd say we still have a long journey ahead of us."_

He paused for a moment, mulling over some thoughts in his head.

_"The majority of the ponies traveling to Equineland seem to be those in search of work, as seen by the lumberponies, miners and a few spare crewman looking for work on another ship. I saw two rather well-dressed unicorns come aboard: merchants, perhaps? I'll be finding out soon enough, I guess: there'll be plenty of time to find out who all these ponies are."_

He turned the page.

_"I met a rather extraordinary unicorn on board: a Miss Meia Morphos. Black hair, my height, a very pleasant shade of green for her pelt: all in all, rather stunning. She says she was going to Equineland for a vacation/adventure of sorts, but would have to sadly return upon completing it, as she couldn't afford to see more of world. My heart went out to her, as she seemed most downtrodden at the prospect of having to return home to what I gather is a large and dysfunctional family. I offered her passage as a member of my retinue and she gladly accepted. We'll see how things go from here on out."_

He signed his name under the writing and closed the journal, just as a few of the crew not assigned topside night watch started milling around. Ad they began lighting the lamps, Spike returned to his quarters, stashed his journal away, and went back outside, remembering to lock his door.

As he approached the communal room, he smelled something delicious wafting through the decks. "Must be breakfast," he thought, remembering the captain Roan saying everyone was allotted a certain portion so none would go hungry. Given his ancestry, Spike could eat just about anything, including coal, rocks, gems, and to his recent amazement, wood. So as for breakfast, he would see what they had: otherwise he'd eat some refuse they were considering throwing overboard.

Walking through the communal room, he followed his nose to the back of the ship. Passing through a door, he found himself in a mess hall of sorts, complete with what looked like a small kitchen, several tables with benches for seats, and an honest-to-goodness pantry. Walking over to where a burly griffin was cooking something, Spike had a thought. Wouldn't a wooden ship such as this catch fire if there was a kitchen fire? That was when he noticed something shimmer before him: a flame-extinguishing spell had been placed all around the cooking area.

"Ingenious," he muttered, walking past as the griffin pulled some things out of a cupboard and unceremoniously tossed them into a boiling pot.

"Sorry, we don't serve 'igneous' here," the griffin said, turning around to get a look at Spike. "If you'll be wanting rocks or something like that, talk to the quartermaster: they'll be labeled under supplies."

"Oh, I said ingenious," Spike said politely, noticing the griffin's tone was simply straight to the point and not brusque. At the non-plussed look, he pointed at the magical field. "Keeping the ship from catching fire should something go wrong in the kitchen: rather practical use of magic."

"Aye, it be so," said a voice behind him. Turning around, Spike saw the captain pick up a serving tray of sorts, like out of a school cafeteria. "Standard issue, comes wit' every ship nowadays: safety protocols and all that stuff."

"That's not just an ordinary spell, Mr. Flankstrom," Spike said, picking up a tray of his own. "That would have to have been cast by an above-average unicorn to encase the area so perfectly."

"Aye, well, when Ferdinand Maregellan is the one doin' the castin', he makes sure not to skimp out on any features," the captain said, going down a line of foods for the morning brunch. That certainly was strange: it was like a cafeteria was on the insides of a sailing ship. Times had certainly changed from the paleo-pony period: wind power and now steamboats on rivers compared to ancient oars and rows of ponies powering the ship.

"I'm sorry, Ferdinand who?" Spike asked, picking up a grilled hay and cheese sandwich. "I've never been to the sea until recently, so you'll forgive me if my nautical knowledge is a tad low."

"Aye, no harm done," Roan replied, finishing up with his food and walking over to a bench, where he and Spike sat across from one another. "I'll tell ya the condensed version, or we'll be here 'till supper. Ferdinand Maregellan was a unicorn born at sea to naval parents, a unicorn and an earth pony. From an early age he knew the signs o' the weather like the back o' his horn. For years he sailed with his parents, tellin' 'em when felt his horn a-twitchin': that was the signal for an incomin' gale. With this ability, he became a natural sea-pony, risin' through the ranks in a matter o' years, instead o' decades. Then, as a captain for the Portucolt Navy, he served several years before serving again wit' the Equinish Fleet, earning commendations in both. He's survived four pirate attacks, two mutinies, three hurricanes and 'as had five ships sink out from underneath him."

"Quite the legend, I'll warrant," Spike said with a hint of awe as he ate.

"Aye, but that when he was young," Roan continued. "After hittin' forty, he decided to settle down. Trouble was, a unicorn with talents like his wasn't just goin' to step out o' the spotlight that easy. So he became a craftsman for ship-builders in Equineland, castin' spells such as the one you noticed. Earns plenty enough to take care o' himself and his family, too."

"Did you ever serve under him?" Spike asked, taking another bite of his breakfast sandwich.

"Aye, once or twice: it was long ago, when I was still a cabin-pony aboard a ship o' his." Roan didn't say anything after that, the glazed over look in his eyes telling Spike the salty old sea-pony was reliving memories in his head. Excusing himself after finishing up, he placed his tray in the wash bin and went topside, where he saw the other pony he was looking for.

"So, Meia, have you any thoughts on what you would like to see when we get to Equineland?" Spike asked, sitting down next to her on the bench. It creaked slightly under their combined weight, as all wooden benches were inclined to do, but not by much.

She was silent for a moment. "I did want to see the White Cliffs of Roaner," she said, looking out over the ocean. "I hear they are a spectacular sight."

"Then we'll see them," Spike said, knowing it wouldn't be any trouble to go see the cliffs. He wasn't supposed to stay in Equineland long, but then again he hadn't the foggiest idea what he was going to do there anyway. Of all the lands across the Barnlantic, Equineland was perhaps the most known to Celestia and Luna, though that was an exception. The only other one that came close was Prance, and it wasn't exactly known for welcoming foreigners. The king, only recently crowned a few years ago, still had problems with some of the barons who looked out only for themselves. Through his journey there, if Spike could avoid them, then so much the better.

"So what were you planning on doing in Equineland?" Meia asked, snapping Spike out of his reverie.

"Oh, see some sights, pick up some more supplies, magically send back things to my friends," Spike rattled off aimlessly.

"Magically send them back?" Meia asked, arching an eyebrow. "But you're a dragon..."

"Yes, it would seem impossible for such a creature as myself to do this, given a penchant for my species' fire-breathing capabilities.. However, that is where most ponies would be wrong: a dragon's breathe can also be used to transport objects across innumerable distances in the blink of an eye," Spike said. "This way I can keep in contact with my friends and send them some of the things they had asked me about. Of course, I'll still have to get a camera when we land."

He glanced over his shoulder, but suddenly seized up. "Get down!" he shouted, grabbing Meia and pulling her to the deck. Before she could say a word of protest or outrage, one of the pulley ropes swung where her head had been, the large metal piece moving at a speed that would have taken her head clean off. They lay there before separating awkwardly, more so on Meia's part than Spike's.

"You okay down there?" a voice called from the rigging.

"Yeah, we'll be fine," Spike replied, getting up and then helping Meia to her hooves. "You all right?"

The unicorn huffed. "Yeah, I'll be fine: fine enough to spend the rest of the day below decks," she said, her tone angry and shocked. She had almost died: _almost died_. All of her plans would have been for nothing, and her kingdom would have been without its rightful ruler. It would have fallen into chaos, anarchy, as the most powerful of her underlings would have vied for control. Chaos and disorder were not the ways of her people: iron-hoofed rule and a desire to expand were the qualities instilled in the newer generations. All of that would have been undone with her death.

"Well, I agree it would be safer down there," Spike said, snapping her out of her thoughts as he looked around. The sun was still rising, so maybe going down and chatting with other passengers wasn't such a bad idea: much safer than staying up above. Clouds dotted the eastern horizon, blurring the line between sea and sky as Spike and Meia went below-decks.

Spike plopped down in a chair, which were surprisingly comfortable, given this was supposed to be a vessel of modest means. He looked over at Meia, who had sat down in one as well, her eyes staring at the floor.

"You okay?" he asked, knowing surviving a near-death experience like she had would take time to recover from.

"Y-Yes," she said, a bit hesitantly at that. Right now her mind was off somewhere else, torn between anger at herself for not sensing the danger, and part embarrassment that he had saved her life after only knowing her for a day.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Spike whispered quietly, as they weren't exactly sitting very far apart.

"N-No, I'll be fine," she said, her voice becoming a bit steadier. "I just need to unwind is all."

"Your choice," Spike said, leaning back in the chair. He was not about to press the issue, and frankly, he was at least glad she hadn't just fallen to pieces after that experience. She was made of tougher stuff than she seemed, this Meia Morphos.

So they sat that way for the longest time, not saying a word. Spike was wrapped up in his thoughts on where to go after Equineland. He was going through Portucolt and into Spain, though where was a mystery...

Just then, he felt a small hiccup come up from his stomach. Opening his mouth, a small tongue of green flame shot forth, forming into a scroll. Catching it to the surprise of passerby, he opened it and read it to himself.

"_Dear Spike, I hope your journey has been going well thus far. As the one who arranged where you will be going, I felt it necessary to help you find the path through which you will travel through these countries. Once you arrive in Spreign, you'll be staying with the Almareconraddo Del Rivioso family, lords of Maragon, for a week or so. Be sure to be on your best behavior, my young dragon friend. Keep in touch: Luna._"

"Hmm," Spike muttered, pocketing the small scroll in his shirt. "Well, that solves one problem of what we're going to do in Spreign."

He leaned back in the chair once more, only to be thrown forward all of a sudden as the ship lurched to one side. Meia was soon thrown too by another lurch, landing in a heap atop him: cries of surprise from all around meant the other passengers had lost their balance as well.

"Uh, Meia, you can get off me," Spike said, his word's muffled by Meia's stomach. He soft fur was poking through the split in her shirt where the buttons fastened together: he might sneeze if she didn't remove herself quickly.

"Sorry," she said, getting off before her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment: against her will, at that. "What in Equestria was that?"

"I don't know, but it couldn't have been good," Spike said, rising to his feet. Just then, Roan Flankstrom came down from the deck, soaking wet from head to hoof.

"Rogue waves!" he shouted, causing everyone to look up at him. "Gale coming in out of the east like a demon from hell! All crew: man your stations! Passengers get to your cabins!" Crew rushed past everyone one way, while the other passengers began a mad dash back to their own cabins. That was, except for Meia, who was caught up by the pressing bodies of the crew and hauled outside.

"Meia!" Spike shouted, rushing up after her in time to see a wave wash over the side. The now-pounding rain made it hard to see, but Spike's keen dragon eyes made up for that. Several crewmen slipped from the wave's force, and one pony in particular was carried far to the other side. "Meia, I'm coming!" Spike shouted, rushing over as best he could on the rocking ship. He ducked as one of the poles attached to the rigging swung his way, missing him by mere inches. Another wave crashed over the side, soaking him to the bone as the winds whipped around him. Blinking through the biting wind, he saw the unicorn holding onto the railing, about to fall into the water. Her expression was that of pure terror.

Leaping forward while using his wings to give him an extra boost, Spike threw out his hand in time to catch Meia's, just as she fell. Holding her, he started to pull her back onto the ship.

"Behind you!" she shouted. The dragon turned in time to see a colossal wall of water crash into the side of the ship, sending a veritable surge across the deck.

"OH SH-," he said but never finished as his footing was lost and they both went soaring over the edge, still holding each other's hands. They lost contact with one another right before they hit the water.

Spike sunk like a stone, the water around him rather calm when compared to the turbulent waters above him. For a few seconds he just lay there, submerged and confused. Getting his act together, he realized that even though as a dragon he could hold his breath longer than any pony, he'd still drown unless he reached the surface. Swimming as best he could, with his wings acting like the fins of a manta ray, he burst to the surface, pausing to look around.

"MEIA!" he shouted after taking in a deep breath of salt-tinged air, looking this way and that. Another breath got him a mouthful of salt water, causing him to cough and gasp. The _Crowhop_ was facing the wind, so for the moment it hadn't gone anywhere. If it had been traveling _with _the wind, or even perpendicular to it, he would have been truly SOL.

"SPIKE!" a voice sounded in the gloom. Peering around, Spike saw the unicorn clinging to the side of the ship, though he could tell she was barely hanging on.

"I'm coming! Hold on!" he shouted, but that last part did little to help her. Her hands let go, and with her hooves facing the sky, she fell back down to the sea as the ship lurched upwards over another colossal wave. Amidst all the chaos of the storm, her entry into the ocean left barely a splash.

Spike dove under after her as the _Crowhop_ came crashing back down, the depth to which he had swum barely eclipsing the depth to which the ship sank into the water. Peering around in the gloom, he saw the unicorn sinking further downward: his wings swiftly propelled him to her side. Looking up after gathering her in his arms, Spike pumped his wings as hard as he could, rocketing up through the water. He breathed out as he rose, his lungs expanding due to the change in pressure.

With a splash similar to that of an erupting geyser, he burst from the water. The sheer force of his wings' power propelled him and his unconscious cargo through the air and back onto the main deck of the ship, with his wings acting as sails to prevent his landing from being a painful one.

Getting off the deck as quickly as he could, Spike carried Meia back into the common room and lay her down, checking for signs of life. She had a pulse, but she wasn't breathing. Tilting her head back, he began to administer CPR: two breaths followed by thirty chest compressions. He continued this for a minute until water came from the unicorn's mouth: her eyes opened and she gasped, coughing up more water. Gently, he turned her onto her side, so as to aid in the process of expelling water from her lungs.

After a few more minutes of this, he patted her on the back. "Are you okay?" he asked, watching as she managed to perform a spell that completely expelled the remaining water from her lungs. Thankfully she had managed to do that, or else he'd have to bring her back to her cabin (which he didn't know the location of) on a rocking boat like this, where he could easily trip and fall on the way there.

"I've been better," she said with a hoarse voice. "Thank you for saving me: again."

"Hey, what kind of dragon would I be if I didn't come to the rescue?" Spike asked with a small smile, trying to ease the tension.

"Still, it was very gallant of you," she said, taking deep breaths to put oxygen back into her blood stream. "Though I must ask: why did you save me? You could have died out there."

"I'm not one to sit by and watch someone die," Spike said, helping her to her hooves. "Saving someone else's life is part of my dragon code: I couldn't go against it, even if they didn't want to be saved."

Meia was silent for a moment as she wrung the water out of her mane. Her clothes were sopping wet, as were Spike's, and right now she was too exhausted to try and perform any magic that could dry them. "We'd best get back to our quarters," she said, not sure which part of her was saying this.

"All right: be safe," Spike said, giving her a sudden hug. Letting go just as suddenly, he walked off, unknowingly leaving a shocked Meia/Chrysalis standing there. Her eyes were glazed over for a few seconds, as if lost in thought, before she turned and walked to her quarters on the other side of the ship.

Shutting her door and striping off her soaking clothes, she hung them to dry on various hooks in her cabin. Weary from the exhaustion and near-death experience, she lay down on her cot. Inside her head, though, her thoughts were anything but weary: more like a kaleidoscope of ideas and confusion. Sure he had saved her twice already, one from blunt force trauma and now from drowning, but things like that could be discounted in the grand scheme of things. He was nothing to her: a mere tool she would acquire and use, and then discard, as she had so many others.

Then why was her heart, a normally cold and shriveled thing, shivering with warmth at the hug he had given her?

So for two more weeks, Meia kept to her quarters and the below-decks of the ship, rarely if ever coming topside: it was safer that way. Spike walked wherever the captain allowed him, with the two of them becoming good friends. Roan would show him maps and the equipment ships would use to traverse the oceans and seas of the world, while Spike showed him the magical properties of dragon fire. Every night or so Spike would go to the captain's quarters and listen to tales of the sea, though the one about Roan seeing a mer-pony felt a bit far-fetched, to be honest.

The rest of the journey passed without much more excitement, save for the sighting of the shores of Equineland. Spike looked out over the sea from of the ship, the sun shining on his scales and spines. He watched as the ship sailed into port, past countless other frigates, fishing boats and galleons loaded with cargo. He even helped a few of the crew unload the planks so everyone could get off the ship safely: he was even paid a small bag of gold coins for helping the merchant unicorns unload some of their cargo.

The captain was the last to bid him goodbye. "It was a pleasure having you aboard, Master Spike," he said, sweeping his hat off with a bow. "If you'll ever be needin' passage back to Equestria, just say the word and the _Crowhop_ is yours."

"Thank you, Captain Flankstrom," Spike replied, giving a deep bow of his own. "I shall keep that in mind."

With Meia not far behind him, Spike set off through the streets of the small Equinish village that had such an unnaturally large port coming off of it. Signaling a carriage, Spike and Meia marveled at its design, as the magical carriage moved without physical input by its driver. Telling the stallion who placed the spell on the carriage where they were headed, the duo loaded the few supplies they had purchased into a secondary compartment and entered the marvelous contraption. Soon enough they had left the small coastal village behind them and were traveling through the pleasant countryside, with green hills and farms and all sorts of small villages dotting the landscape. Small bridges passed over delightful-looking streams and brooks, where fish splashed in the mid-day sun.

After traveling the rest of the day, to where the sun's rays were once again disappearing on the distant western horizon, they had arrived at their destination: the White Cliffs of Roaner.

"Here we are," Spike said, stepping out of the carriage and offering a hand to Meia, who tentatively accepted it. Together they walked to the cliffs, upon where Spike set down a large blanket for them both to sit on. He himself would have been fine with grass, but it felt more gentlemanly and sophisticated to lay down something soft for the unicorn. He sat down in his new clothes, a casual suit of sorts, courtesy of a tailor in the village offering deals to new arrivals. Spike's of course had been custom-made, as his wings needed padded slits in the back so they could poke through. Meia herself was in a new dress he had bought her, red as a fire ruby: she looked rather stunning, to be honest.

They sat in silence for a while on the small jutting piece of terrain, staring out at the cliffs to their sides. It truly was an awe-inspiring sight: great white edifices ranging up and down the coastline as far as the eye could see, the brilliance of them a stark contrast against the green hills they supported and the blue seas they bordered.

"Well, is it everything you thought it would be?" Spike asked, looking over at Meia. Her eyes were locked on the distant cliffs as if trying to memorize them.

"No," she said. Spike felt his stomach drop a bit before she spoke again. "It is even more so." She looked at him with a sweet smile on her face as she placed one hand over his. "Thank you, Spike: thank you for helping me see what I've only dreamed of."

She gave his hand a squeeze, and he gave her a small squeeze in return. "The journey isn't over yet, Meia," he replied with a smile. "There is so much more to see." So they sat there, not saying another word, until the sunlight truly faded from the skies and stars began to twinkle above them. Leaving the cliffs, they took the waiting carriage to a small inn, where they stayed the night: in separate rooms, of course.

Well, Meia did linger a bit outside Spike's door before she went to bed, her mind swirling with thoughts. "There is still yet time to make him yours," her head said. Her heart, though, said something else entirely: it wanted her to go in that room and thank him, to be close to him. Very, _very_ close to him indeed.

"I will _not_ be ruled by emotions," Chrysalis told herself, feeling unnerved that she was even feeling these things. She was Queen of the Chagelings, not some common tart who would just throw herself at a handsome dragon, no matter how many times he'd saved her life. "The plan will come together when _I_ say so." Walking away, she went to her room and closed the door, shedding her outer clothes and dressing in a soft nightgown. Still, when she lay down to sleep, she slept better than she had since that first night after Spike had saved her from a watery grave.

It bugged her to no end.


	5. From East to West and Back Again

Chapter Five

From East to West and Back Again

The sun's rays shone warmly through the windows of the small inn settled amongst the hills of the Equninish countryside. The green hills sparkled with dew in the early morning sunlight, as an early morning fog that had rolled in at night faded away to nothingness except in the deeper dips between the steeper hills. Birds flitted to and fro between the trees and down to the ground, intent of snatching up the lazy insects and worms that had come out the warm night before. A bubbling brook ran behind the treeline, with fish splashinng to and fro, intent on gobbling up the flying insects that flittered over the water's surface.

Chrysalis sniffed the air as she opened her eyes, a peculiar scent waiting through her room. It smelled like something had been baking and was just being taken out of the oven. She had not been expecting such a smell to be so... wonderfully delicious. "Hmm," she thought, getting up and stretching her lean disguise. "I wonder what they could be making?" Truthfully she was nearly the same litheness in her disguise as she was in her true form, but she was still glad she had shrunk her thighs just a bit.

Baking was a rare treat back in the lands of the Changelings, and Chrysalis, being queen, was usually the only one with a head chef that could bake something halfway decent. That was when she infiltrated Canterlot, the first thing she had done was to explore all the culinary delights that pervaded the scenery. Yes, it had been almost more worth it than the invasion itself, but it had been one of the happiest days of her life. Well, until the invasion proved bust and she was tossed out with her changeling army. Then it went from happiest day to most humiliating: one she intended to eventually repay.

There was a knock at her door, which slightly startled the Changeling Queen. "Who is it?" she asked, maintaining some semblance of calm. Why was she so jumpy all of a sudden? Nopony could possibly know of her disguise, and apart from the pony who had sold them her dress, she had yet to see another unicorn in this country.

"It's me, Spike," said the voice. "I just came by to tell you that breakfast is ready and we'll soon be on our way. One of the mares here said the weather should be nice for a while."

On our way? What did he mean by that? "Oh, of course," she thought, thinking back to what he had told her before. "Finding all those things for his friends." Dressing quickly in a fresh set of clothes, she packed the rest away and walked out in time to find the dragon sipping what looked to be tea, with a half-eaten biscuit lying on a small plate in front of him. He was seated at a communal breakfast table of sorts, though he was all by himself. They hadn't seen any other carriages parked at the inn, so it was possible they were the only guests staying there.

"I never figured you for a tea drinker," Chrysalis/Meia said, sitting down and magically retrieving a biscuit for herself.

"I never was one, but it pays to try new things, and this here is good." The dragon was silent for a while until the staring of Meia got to him. "Oh, this?" Spike queried, gesturing at his cup. "This here is a special tea brewed from the needles of the Scots Pine in the highlands of Northern Equineland," he said. "What with tea imported from India being so incredibly costly to more rural folk, they've discovered ways of making do with what they could import locally." He took another sip. "It's actually quite sweet and minty, if you wanted to know. Would you care for some?"

"No thank you," Meia replied after swallowing a bite of her biscuit. "I'll be fine."

They sat in silence as they ate their breakfast, the only noises those coming from the birds twittering outside. It was a rather peaceful start to the day, so that when they finished and packed their luggage into a waiting pony-less carriage, they were almost sad to say goodbye to it. Still, they had a long journey ahead of them, and as such they needed a good start. Weather in this part of the country, or so they had been told, was notorious for changing at a moment's notice. It could be bright and sunny one minute, and within an hour it could be raining like no tomorrow.

The carriage wound along the road, the ground beneath them a completely compacted dirt surface from all the traffic it had seen over the years. Due to the nature of the local soils, so much traffic had gone over it that nothing could grow there: not even weeds. Small stones lined the outside, so as to mark the boundaries in case it grew harder to see a ways off of one's carriage. Meia occasionally glanced over at Spike, who was too busy writing down and taking pictures of things to notice. So as not to appear rude, she waited until he had put his supplies away before speaking.

"Spike, back on the ship, you received a letter," she said slowly, as if trying to say it without sounding too nosy. She couldn't have him thinking she was trying to worm her way into his life so soon, or else he might become suspicious. "If you don't mind me asking, what did it say?"

Spike glanced at her for a moment as if in thought, but seemingly dismissed it as he looked back out the window. "It was a letter from the ones financing my trip, for the most part," he replied good-naturedly. "It detailed one of the places we'd be staying. Once we reach Spreign, it said we'll be staying with the Almareconraddo Del Rivioso family for a while."

"Del Rivioso," Meia repeated, truly not knowing who they were. "Are they royalty of some sort?"

"I believe so: the letter made that much clear, though I am not sure as to what kind of ponies they are," Spike said, remembering his obligation to continuing his line. He'd try to wait a bit more until he started looking for mares who wouldn't mind sharing him: they'd have to all get along, after all. A divided house could not stand, after all, and if he was to have at least three wives, then he'd have to keep the peace.

A soft rumble in the distance startled him out of his thoughts. "Meia, I think it's gonna rain soon," he said, looking out the window at their destination: another port city on the southern part of the island. In an isolated land such as Equineland, the locals had definitely learned the values of cooperation and ingenuity in order to not only survive, but thrive.

"I'll get my rain cloak," she said with a sigh, rummaging around in a bag of hers. Another rumble sounded in the distance, closer than before. Spike too rummaged in a satchel he carried, a gift from the inn owner upon hearing of what he was mostly doing. Mostly being a general term; no mention of royalty or brides, else he might have had trouble traveling the countryside without every farmer's daughter throwing themselves at him. Word got around quickly in parts where everyone knew everyone and was at least related in some way, whether close or distant. Sounded a lot like parts of Equestria, though the Apple family surely didn't have _that_ many relatives.

Within an hour of traveling some more, Spike's prediction had come true: the rain was absolutely pouring down on the magical carriage, causing the roadways to become slick with mud. All around them slow winds pelted raindrops against the windows of the carriage, blurring the image of the outside to them. Still, when they were within sight of the port town, they could tell: a bright multitude of lights off in the distance wasn't some hallucination caused by rain, after all. Otherwise, that would have meant they were lost, and that would have been very bad in this kind of weather.

When they reached the top of the last hill between them and the town, something happened that they did not expect. With a crunch, the carriage lurched to the side. Upon impacting the inside of the compartment, Spike and Meia's own weight added to the problem, and then the whole kit and caboodle tipped over, landing with a loud squish in the middle of the muddy road. Luckily the windows of the carriage hadn't broken, else the mud would have flooded into the carriage and absolutely covered them. Well, Spike might have burned his way out, but Meia, even with her magic, could have been suffocated by all the mud.

"Are you okay?" Spike said, looking over at Meia, whose mane had been tussled more than slightly from the fall. He himself felt fine, as the fall was nothing to fret about. he had endured worse, though to him, worse included rolling down a steep hill after tripping on a log.

"Yeah, but now I've got one nasty headache," she said, rubbing her temples. "It can't be more than a half mile to the nearest inn, and I'm not for staying out in this busted carriage. If it keeps raining like this, we could be half buried in mud by the time someone comes out here." Plus, the carriage was not exactly a good source of insulation, so they would get cold rather quickly if they stayed.

"Can you fix it with your magic?" Spike asked, making sure their rain cloaks were securely fastened before climbing out into the pouring rain. Meia took one look at the carriage's underside and shook her head.

"Both axles are broken, the wheels on the side we landed on are splintered, and I think the whole compartment is off kilter," she said, pulling their thankfully sparse provisions from the rear compartments. "Even if I tried, I'm not asure this would be road-worthy again with what litle I could do." She pointed out towards the town. "If we hurry, I think we can make it before we catch something."

Spike nodded, hauling the largest bags onto his back and setting off at a methodical pace: not slow by any means, but he wasn't exactly setting a new land speed record. Meia kept up behind him, her cloak already showing signs of being soaked through. As if to add to their misfortune, the rain began to pour harder than before, drenching them to the bone and reducing visibility to almost nil. Still they plodded on, following the muddy road as a guide to the port town. The wind, mercifully gentle before, picked up slightly, so that even soaked their cloaks swirled around them like wisps of smoke.

Finally they arrived, chilled and feeling somewhat sick from the ordeal of slugging so far through such conditions. Stopping at the first inn they found, they were sadly informed it was full and would have to try the next one. With a tone of despair they said thanks and hurried as well as they could to the next one, which thankfully had one extra room for them. _One_ extra room, and from the old stallion's description, it had no fireplace and only one bed.

Right now, Meia would have been thoroughly grateful if she could have found a damned cave to sleep in, never mind a soft bed. Still, in the back of her mind, this did bring up a problem: the two of them would have to share it, and as Spike (being a dragon) was nigh immune to certain weather conditions, his source of heat would be the best way to warm her up before she could catch a cold or worse. If she did come down with something, he could possibly leave her behind out of concern for her health, which was the _last_ thing she needed if her plan was to work.

Spike seemed to have reached the same conclusion as soon as they dropped their thankfully dry luggage in the small room. Peeling off the soaked cloaks and hanging them up, hopefully so they could dry, Spike looked at Meia.

"We'll need to share the bed: our bodies will keep each other warm." Well, he was already warm: _his_ body would be the one keeping her warm.

"Can I trust you to keep your hands to yourself?" Meia asked, deciding a slightly coy response would be the best one. However this progressed, she could count on staying warm and staving off sickness.

"Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye," Spike responded with a slight grin, remembering the value of a true Pinkie Promise. Turning away as the unicorn undressed, he climbed into bed right after stripping down to his scales. If he had turned around, he would have noticed Meia glancing at him while he undressed.

"_Mmm, what a nice ass,_" she thought, before mentally slapping herself. "_Get it together mare!_" she thought to herself, crawling in beside him so that Spike's back faced her chest. "_He's a future tool, a pawn: don't go down that train of thought!_" Who knew where she would end up if she did?

But she still snuggled up to him all the same, his body giving off a fairly pleasant amount of heat. "Goodnight Meia," Spike said. His tail was also very warm, and it pressed up against her legs, heating them better than any blanket could have.

"Goodnight, Spike," she replied, her shivering gone as she held the dragon's warm body against her own. Outside the rain continued to pour, but inside, the pair were warm and safe.

They awoke the next morning and quickly dressed, Spike waiting for Meia to finish before removing the covers from over his head and dressing himself. After paying for a small breakfast, the pair left the inn, traveling down the slippery streets to the harbor. A galleon awaited them, far larger and more spacious than the _Crowhop_ had been, but then again, this ship was practically defenseless: an escort of gunboats sailed with it as soon as it left the harbor, their flags signifying them as such.

For the better part of the day Spike and Meia did nothing but talk and compile his things for transport. In the middle of the day, when the shores of Portucolt were off in the distance, Spike magically teleported all he needed back to his friends: spares of his journal notes, pictures of the military garb the local militia wore, descriptions of the animals (however few) he had seen, and some rather exquisite wool cloth from the highland sheep of the north. He had found only one scroll for Twilight, a spell-caster's guide to sailing, and only one kind of apple seed for the apple farm. No new kinds of balloons or anything for Pinkie, but he had sent her the next best thing: designs for party kites, a dream-gift Pinkie had been talking about for a good three years now.

Within the hour the ship docked and the pair went off, traveling by carriage through the mountainous terrain of the coastal cities. As luck would have it, a market was near the edge of town, and due to its elevation the locals had plenty of rather unexpected things to be sold. Many citrus fruits and garden vegetables were there, along with copper trinkets studded with semi-precious stones and get this: genuine velvet. Using most of his remaining money, Spike bought much of this, including a scroll detailing the growth of food on a mountain's slopes. With this, he and Meia set off once more, soon crossing the border into the lands of Spreign.

Truth be told, while the Equinish countryside had been pleasant and the Portucolt grandiose in its own mountainous way, the wide open fields of olives and the jagged peaks of Spreign's countryside were a sight to behold. Vineyards filled with vines, carefully cultivated by the same families for centuries, stretched out as far as the eye could see, the fruits glistening in the sun. The sun glinted off of the stony walls of the fortresses and castles they passed, still in use after being built centuries before. Towns and villages everywhere, with friendly ponies greeted them in their native tongue: Spreignish. Earth ponies and unicorns abounded wherever they went, and pegasi flew overhead laden with enchanted carts: much easier transporting goods by air than by road, especially between towns in the higher elevations.

As dusk approached, the carriage rounded a corner to find the way blocked by a fallen tree. It looked ancient and if his hunch was correct, it hadn't been alive in some time. No roots, no branches, and a distinct lack of bark only confirmed his suspicions Getting out of the carriage, Spike walked up to the tree and examined it.

"Is everything all right?" Meia called out, peering out the window at him. "Why have we stopped?"

"Well, this tree didn't fall here on its own," Spike called back, scratching his chin. "Someone placed it across the path on purpose."

"Why would they do that?" Meia called out just as some shrubs above Spike rustled. He looked up in time to see a mangy and absolutely repulsive stallion leap out at him, a small dagger held in one hand. No ordinary dagger could pierce a dragon's hide, but still, Spike was unwilling to let the thief get to him.

With his instincts kicking in, Spike rolled to the side, the glinting dagger missing him by an uncomfortable margin. Spinning quickly, he dodged another frantic swipe as the crazed bandit lunged again, shouting maniacally in his foreign tongue.

In his efforts to not become impaled, Spike tripped on a rock and fell backwards, his legs facing upwards as the stallion, sensing an opportunity, leaped on him. They thrashed for a few seconds before Spike kicked him up and over him, the force sending the bandit over the ledge of the winding road and down the steep rocky slope. He didn't rise from where he had come to a still.

Spike breathed deeply as he climbed to his feet, his heart hammering in his chest. Knowing full well that the bandit had been alone, if his method of attack was anything to go by, Spike shoved the tree off to the side of the path. A glimmer caught his eye up in the bushes from where the thief had jumped at him. Climbing up, he couldn't believe his eyes: three large satchels of gold coins, gleaming in the sunlight. Knowing an opportunity when he saw one, he grabbed the three, slung them over his shoulder, and clambered down, all while Meia watched.

"Are you okay?" she asked breathlessly, as she had seen the whole ordeal happen in front of her. "Where is the bandit? What did you find?"

"He's a good ways down the hill, likely unconscious, and these are that thief's ill-gotten gains," Spike said, loading them up into the carriage. "We'll divide what we need, and give the rest to some poor ponies." He passed for a second. "Yes, I'm fine."

"Divide?" Meia asked. "What do you mean divide?"

"Divide, as in we'll split this 'treasure' between us," Spike said. "No doubt there's more than enough for us, so whatever is left over will be given to the first poor pony we see, as an act of charity."

"But why not keep it for ourselves?" Meia asked. A rather legitimate question, given the circumstances.

"As we'll soon be staying with nobility, I see no reason to keep more than we currently need," Spike replied as he climbed in the carriage: it began to move once more. "Besides, if my hunch is correct, they'll set us up with plenty with gifts: royals tend to do that as a show of good favor."

"Well then, I hope you know what you're doing: saving some gold for later could pay off in the long run," Meia said as they began to split up the first satchel of gold. They did this for a good hour, as Spike made sure any gemstones they found were placed in a separate pile entirely. As to why, he did not say, and Meia had a reasonable suspicion that despite his draconic heritage, he wasn't going to hoard or eat them.

When they had finished, they had around five hundred gold pieces apiece, with a hundred more to be given to the first poor pony they came across. Still, by the time they entered the city of Mare-agoza, which had grown out of the central citadel known as Mare-agon. The gleaming edifices seemed to reach out from the very sides of the mountains on which it was partially built. Statues, botanical gardens and even a river flowed through the palatial estate, or at least from where Spike and Meia could see. Who knew what else lie within the walls of such royal splendor?

Traveling through the city, Spike was both awed and somewhat repulsed by the city. Parts were clean, and others, especially those where water would collect after rain, were not so clean. Here and there clusters of trees sprouted from bare patches of dirt, but many of the houses seemed simple and inelegant, which truth be told was to be expected. He didn't see many ponies walking around, though here and there he and Meia would catch glimpse of clusters gathered around far-off gardens, likely those belonging to large families.

There was a noise in front of the carriage and Spike glanced out the window: an elderly pony, reminiscent of Granny Smith, had dropped a few things in front of the carriage while what could only be her grandfoals ran about this way and that. Moved at the sight of her tenderly trying to pick up the spilled items, Spike got out of the carriage and walked over to her. Without saying a word, he leaned over and began to help her pick up the things she had dropped, placing them in her bags for her. She smiled and uttered one small word: "gracias."

She seemed like the kind of pony who had worked so hard all her life and had so little to show for it. So, having decided he had found one worthy enough, Spike went back to the carriage, retrieved the one hundred gold coins, and gave them to the old mare without so much as saying a single word. Then he got back in the carriage and rode off, leaving the elderly mare stunned at her sudden turn of good fortune.

Arriving at the main gate to the citadel, Spike showed the letter from Celestia to the stationed guards. With deep bows they opened the gates for the carriage, which promptly rolled inside. As soon as they came to a stop near the front doors, a tall and lanky stallion opened them and ushered them in.

"May I present Spike the dragon, and his friend..." he looked nonplussed at the disguised Chrysalis.

"Meia," she said. "Meia Morphos."

"Miss Meia Morphos," the stallion finished, the name rolling off his tongue as if it sounded odd to him. A voice sounded as a pair of unicorns stepped out into the light.

"I welcome you and your friend to our humble estate," the stallion said, taking a sweeping bow while a mare, clearly his wife, gave a graceful curtsey. "I am Carlos Almareconraddo Del Rivioso, and this is my wife, Isabella."

"It is a pleasure making your acquaintance," the mare said. "If you'll please come with us, we'll give you the royal tour of where you'll be staying. The citadel is quite large, and I do hope you'll enjoy your stay with us." Abruptly the two royal unicorns turned and began to walk away, their hooves clacking on the smooth limestone floors.

Spike and Meia glanced at each other, eyebrows raised. Meia simply shrugged her shoulders and followed after the pair, with Spike soon beside her once more. Well, at least they'd be staying in comfort for the time being: best to make the most of it.


	6. A Spreignish Rose

Chapter Six

A Spreignish Rose

The citadel was even more stunning on the inside than it had looked from the outside, and Spike could not believe most of it was hundreds of years old. Botanical gardens of a size so immense you could literally get lost in them: Spike and Meia were even warned about that part, should they explore it. Fountains littered the place, with the clear running water truly a sight to behold against such polished marble. Great arches, intricately carved from apex to bottom, framed nearly every hallway and even many of the rooms. There were chandeliers in the main ballroom that would have rivaled any in Canterlot for their sheer elegance, save for the fact that they were not encrusted with precious stone. No, they were inlaid with silver pearls, surrounded by gold and what Spike could only describe as a "high-sheen metal" which he had never seen before.

"Aluminum," Carlos said as they went along, noticing Spike's questioning look. "In many countries, it is very hard to find any pony that has the technology or magic to create a heat source hot enough to properly smelt it. It is very nearly worth its weight in gold, if not more so in some countries."

"This all must have cost a fortune," Spike said with a hint of admiration in his voice. He had never seen anything like aluminum in Equestria: perhaps they didn't have any deposits?

"Over the centuries, our family has gained and lost much, but we have always managed to come out ahead," Isabella said with a knowing smile. "When strength and cunning were not enough, we adapted to the times and embraced change as it came. It is this trait of continuous survival and endurance that we hope we have passed down to all of our children."

"You have children?" Meia asked, sounding surprised. "Where are they?" It would be easy to miss somepony in this place: it was large enough to hide cater to many ponies without many ever seeing one another.

"Oh, they are likely out participating in their studies," Isabella said, looking out at the castle's smaller gardens. "Their private tutors teach them all they need to know before they associate with the ponies they will come to rule over." royal politics was such a pain, as both Spike and Meia knew all too well.

They continued to walk through the halls, admiring paintings and coats of arms. Several statue busts of ponies from the past, from the great Frederick Douglas of Germareny to Eleanor of Aquitmane, lined the hallways. Just then, as they passed a statue of a Roaman emperor, a flash of red streaked past the two lead royals, colliding with Spike and sending the both of them sprawling to the floor in a small cloud of dust.

"Oops, sorry _senoir_," the mare said, standing up with some difficulty due to her red dress' dimensions. Spike blinked as he sucked in a breath: wait a second, a mare?

"Maria!" Carlos said with a small scowl on his face. "You are supposed to be in your studies! And why in the world are you runningm, especially in your dress?"

"First, I was let out early for finishing ahead," the mare said, counting out a finger to make her point. She said this with a rather strange tone of defiance, as if she had had this conversation before: she held up another finger. "Secondly, I'm running from Angelica and Juana: they want to play dress up and I've had enough."

"That's no excuse to run in the halls and collide with strangers, young mare," Isabella said, looking over at Spike, who had risen to his feet. "Now apologize to this nice young dragon and his friend for your unsightly behavior. Remember, a mare must act with the grace and dignity symbolized by her heritage."

"Dragon?" Maria said, spinning to look at Spike as if she hadn't noticed he wasn't even close to being a pony. "You're a dragon?" Her horn sparked slightly at her realization: emotions tied to a unicorn's magic, and right now her magic had apparently spiked rather high.

"...Yes?" Spike said hesitantly, not sure if she was intrigued or somehow outraged. This pony was unlike any other he had seen in Equestria: her pelt was tan in color, but her hair was a dark shade of red, almost to the point of being black. Her eyes, almond in color, seemed to be deep pools that he could not help but want to dive into. Even though she was six inches shorter than he, she held herself like a mare with no equal. Her body, which he surreptitiously scanned rapidly, was almost done budding into full marehood: he couldn't have been more than a year older than her. Still, without so much as preamble, she began curtsying and jabbering in Spreignish, though her mother soon interjected with another sigh. One word she kept repeating sounded a lot like "attractive", which was a bit more forward than Spike would have normally liked.

"What she _means_ to say," Isabella said, shooting her daughter a glare. "Is that she is sorry for running into you, Master Spike. I am sure you two will get along just fine, if Maria can learn it is not polite to compliment a male in a tongue he does not understand." She turned to her daughter. "I'll have no more of this 'damsel being rescued' nonsense out of you, young one." Apparently all of Maria's jabbering had been about "attractive" Spike "rescuing" her or something?

Maria, in turn, turned to her mother and scowled. "Why can't you let me speak my mind for once? Sometimes I just don't understand why you want me to be the perfect mare for some future stallion I don't even know! I will not settle for some pompous prince who expects me to obey his every whim: I will not be shackled by his demands and his title. I am Maria Almareconraddo Del Rivioso: I deserve better than that!" With that, she stormed off in a huff, muttering a rapid series of Spreignish words Spike felt he didn't want to know. He winced as she shouted again in anger, slamming a door behind her some ways off. Some dust fell from the ceiling from the force of the blow.

Spike had to say he was fascinated by this beauty, if not a little intimidated. She carried herself as if she was an elder sister to Celestia herself, and her exoticness really touched a nerve deep within his core. She was passionate, headstrong, but he could tell her heart was in the right place and she was more than capable of caring for herself. He almost snapped his fingers as he came to a realization. That was it: he had found the first candidate.

Carlos sighed pinching the bridge of his snout with a hand. "Spike, Meia, if you'll follow me, I'll show you to your quarters." His tone made it sound like this was an almost daily occurrence. Isabella curtseyed and walked off, leaving the three alone as they made their way down a hall.

"Sir, if you don't mind me asking, has this been going on for a while?" Spike asked. He needed to know all he could before even considering making his move. His realm of sex had been greatly expanded by Trixie, but sadly, his knowledge of proposing, especially to one such as Maria, was tragically nonexistent. Never mind that Maria was no ordinary unicorn: she could probably hurt him if she thought he had said or done something offensive.

"Yes, for at least a year now," Carlos replied. "Maria is a mare of fine breeding, and has been by our laws for a few years now, but she considers the thought of an arranged marriage to a complete stranger to be utterly repulsive. We have yet to find her a suitable candidate, but we know that when we do, it will be a war to get her to cooperate. She's young and rather strong-willed, but her heart, however volatile, is in the right place. I only wish there was some way to make her see that she has a royal duty to uphold. She wants what she wants, and I'm afraid our wants often conflict with hers."

Spike mulled over this information until they reached their rooms, situated on the far side of the citadel. Meia went inside first, but Spike closed the door, leaving only him and Carlos in the hallway.

"Sir, I'm not who you think I am," he said slowly and carefully. he had to be very careful with his next words, or else things might go... badly.

"You're not?" the stallion asked, raising an eyebrow. "What could you possibly mean by that?"

"I am not merely some friend of Princess Luna," the dragon said, noticing how the stallion's eyes widened at the name of Equestria's co-ruler. Even this far removed from his own country, the name of Spike's sovereign and future co-ruler still carried great weight. "You see, I am her personal student who just so happens to be in a predicament that I believe you and your family can help with."

"And that would be?" Carlos replied.

"I am royalty: draconic royalty," Spike replied. "As such, it is my duty to continue my line, and frankly, I have no idea where to start."

"Ah, I think I see where this is going," Carlos replied with a sudden twinkle in his eye. "You need to marry, and you would like my daughter Maria's hand in marriage: am I right?"

"No!" Spike said a bit too quickly. "Well, er, yes, actually: I would like Maria's hand in marriage. But if what you told me is true, she'll _abhor_ any arranged marriage to one she does not know. I was hoping to get to know her before I could ask for her hand. Would you help me in this?"

The stallion was silent for a moment before he answered. "To tell you the truth, I am a bit shocked that you would consider marrying her after meeting her once. But this is unique: most of us royals never meet or get to know our spouses until after we marry them. Yes, yes I will help you in this. But be warned," the stallion said, pointing a finger at Spike's chest. "If you hurt her in some way, any way, you will answer to me: understand?"

"Perfectly," Spike said, swallowing a lump in his throat that hadn't been there a few minutes ago. "I'm only supposed to stay here a week, though I'm sure Luna wouldn't mind staying an extra one."

"Excellent: I shall begin to arrange everything," Carlos said, clapping his hands together. "If you need me, I'll be in the main hall dealing with everyday royal affairs. I do hope you'll join us for dinner this evening as well?"

"We wouldn't miss it," Spike said, wondering how Meia was going to take all of this.

Not very well, from the look on her face: that is, if Spike could have seen it. She had her head pressed up against the door, listening to every word they had said. This could definitely put a delay on her plans: if he did marry this mare, then she might never get a chance to fully make him hers. Then again, it wouldn't do them either good if she practically forced herself onto the dragon at this juncture: there was still so much more to see and do in this world-wife journey.

Hearing them part ways, she quickly hurried over to their luggage and began to unpack as if that was all she had been doing the entire time. Spike entered without saying a word and went over to help unpack, clearly wrapped up in his own thoughts.

Meia was also deep in thought, though hers was much less organized than Spikes and was on the verge of spilling from her mouth. "_We cannot afford to be patient much longer: she has no doubt snagged a place in his heart, a place that should rightfully be ours! The entire plan could be in jeopardy!_" That was the side of her brain that was still cold and fully in line with the plan, though it was angry.

The other side, the more emotional side that had begun to show more dominance than it ever had before, argued back with equal fervor. "_We cannot force him to love us, and who said we cannot move her aside when need be? He can still be ours, even if we have to share him. Patience is a virtue and good things come to those who wait._"

"Silence: both of you," Meia thought as she reeled back both parts of her disheveled brain into some semblance of order. "As I said before, I will say again: I move when I decide the time is right."

"Are you all right, Meia?" Spike asked, snapping her out of what to him seemed to be a trance. "You've run out of clothes in that case and have been just pantomiming unpacking."

"Oh, yes, uh," she said, caught off guard. "I was just... thinking. Yes, thinking: thinking about how the two of us are going to do all of the things you described after we leave from here."

Spike twiddled his thumbs after sitting down, since all of the clothes and everything were already unpacked. "Meia, yo do know I'm royal, right?"

"Yes," She answered slowly, her facade slipping back into place.

"Well, as you know, royals must continue their blood lines, and as a dragon, it is my responsibility to do some things that may seem odd to you."

"Odd? What do you mean by odd?" Meia asked.

"I must take a wife: wives, to be exact," Spike said, rubbing the back of his neck in an embarrassed manner. "I believe I have found the first candidate: Miss Maria Almareconraddo Del Rivioso."

Meia was silent for a second: she would need to play this part very carefully. "And?" she asked. "Why are you telling me this as if it were some terribly tragic or embarrassing secret? You yourself said it was a duty: go fulfill it."

"You really think I should?" Spike asked, surprised by her answer. She was actually taking this a whole lot better than he thought she would. he had half expected her to call him out for being too forward and a hopeless romatic idealist, or some similar rubbish.

"Of course, you silly dragon," she said, crossing her arms. "First, you'll need to get this mare to fall in love with you, and from what I can guess, there will be many things happening in this place between now and the time we leave. You'd best make the most of what you've got."

"I suppose you could be right," Spike said, rubbing his chin in a thoughtful manner. "Where should I begin? i mean, should I learn more about her family history, or learn the language fully or...?"

"Get to know _her_," Meia replied, her magic sorting all of the unpacked items into their own piles. "The objective is to have her fall in love with you by the time your marriage proposal comes out, or else she might resent you. A healthy relationship between spouses before the marriage is a good way to ensure they will love each other afterwards. Just learning the language won't do a thing: neither is memorizing her history."

"How is it you know so much about arranged marriages?" Spike asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Meia hesitated before speaking once more. "You could say royalty and politics were a hobby of my parents, even more so than unusual names. They were always following the gossip and heresay about royals from wherever any time they could."

"Ah," Spike said, watching as the enchanted items were finally separated and put away. There was a knock at the door: answering it, Spike found it was one of the servants Carlos had told them about. He was a short, thin fellow, and a mule to boot: not a problem for Spike, at any rate.

"Spike, you are cordially invited to dine with the masters tonight, if it should please you," the mule said, his unkempt hair covering his eyes like a blinder. "As is your lady friend, Miss Meia," he added.

"Tell Carlos I- I mean, _we_, would be delighted to join them for dinner," Spike replied, looking back at Meia to make sure she would go as well. She nodded, and the mule walked off, intent on informing Carlos of the news, if not to spread the gossip of what was happening amongst the other servants. Spike knew servants too well from his time in Canterlot: if they loved one thing, it was gossip.

"Well, I'd best get ready," Spike said, looking out of the window as the sun began to set. Well, at least it gave the appearance of setting: being up in the mountains meant it got darker at different times than it would out in a much flatter terrain.

An hour later, Spike stood calmly outside the doors leading to the main dining hall, with Meia beside him. She had chosen to once again go with the red dress he had bought for her back in Equineland.

There was the shuffling of hooves on the other side of the doors, which promptly swung open. "May I present, his royal highness Spike the dragon, citizen of Equestria, and his friend, Miss Meia Morphos."

Thanking the butler with a silent nod, Spike walked into the grand dining hall with Meia in tow, who was appreciatively looking all around at the splendid trappings the unicorns had so tastefully decorated the hall with. Chandeliers of ornate design scattered across the ceiling, a large table with fine china and silverware, even a few ceiling-reaching windows let in the last dying rays of sunlight. However, their hosts were already waiting for them along the far wall.

"It is with great pride and delight that I welcome you to dinner tonight," Carlos said, stepping forward and shaking Spike's and Meia's hands with firm politeness. "Allow me to introduce my family."

The other unicorns stepped forward as one. "Isabella you are familiar with," he said, with his wife giving a polite curtsey. "Antonio, our eldest." The next one in line, a tall proud-looking colt, gave a bow: if Spike had to guess, he was a bit older than he was, possibly by three years or so.

"Maria, our eldest daughter, with whom you are already familiar." She too gave a curtsy as her mother had, but her eyes remained upon Spike. She was less than a year younger than Spike, possibly ranging between five and seventh months only.

"Raoul, the next in line," Carlos continued. A shorter colt, definitely younger than Spike, perhaps only fourteen, gave a bow. He was a bit stockier than his older brother, but other than that the two might have been identical copies of one another.

"Next, our last two children: Angelica and Juana." The two little fillies gave polite curtsies as well: if Spike had to guess, they could be no older than nine and seven, and even that might have been pushing it.

"It is a pleasure to meet all of you," Spike said, giving a deep bow as Meia curtsied as well as she could: her dress was more form-fitting and thus harder to flexibly move around in. "I must say, you have some of the most splendid trappings I have seen in a dining hall."

"Then let us enjoy them while we eat," Carlos said, leading them all to the table. Sitting down at one end, with Spike sitting at the other as the guest of honor, Carlos clapped his hands and servants rushed out with platters of food for everyone. Soon, everyone "dug in", as Applejack might say, though with much more restraint and manners than many in her rural and no-nonsense family might have.

Soon after they finished most of their meals, conversations sprang up between everyone. Carlos was talking to his wife, though in a hushed voice, while Juana and Angelica had started discussing whether or not they like Meia's mane style. She thankfully remained silent, as she was too busy concentrating on what Spike was about to do.

"So, Mr. Spike, is it?" Maria said, looking over at Spike with interest sparkling in her eyes. "Exactly how long did you say you were going to stay with us?"

"I didn't, but it seems I shall be here no more than a few weeks," he replied, noticing the surreptitious wink from Meia. Oh, right: time to pour on the charm and make her swoon. "That is a lovely dress, by the way: what color is it? Aqua?"

"Teal, actually," Maria said, a slight blush spreading over her face. "I must admit it isn't my best, but it was the one mother chose for me." She had a tone of exasperation in her voice: she obviously had wanted a different color.

"I would say it looks very nice," Spike said, who had a distinct feeling Carlos could hear every word he said, even over all of the other conversations. Maybe he had placed a hearing-enhancing spell on himself? "So, since I haven't been here long and only overheard a little when we first met, what sort of things are your studies comprised of?

Maria swirled her fork through her salad. "Oh, much of it is boring upper class garbage my parents want me to do. Still there are advantages with having such knowledgeable tutors: my favorite studies are not of ballroom dancing and greeting dignitaries, but of botany and biology. I absolutely adore nature, which is why I spend much of my time in the gardens. the plants make me feel at ease, like a second home. Would you like to see them some time? The gardens, I mean?"

Her question almost caught Spike off guard, as he was the one who was going to suggest going to the gardens. "Most definitely," he said as the servants took away the remains of the main course and brought out the desserts. "Perhaps tomorrow then, at ten o'clock?" His banana cake was particularly good.

"That would be most delightful, and perfectly timed, Mr. Spike," Maria said, her smile radiating like a beacon to his eyes.

"Please, just call me Spike," he replied, his voice dropping half an octave when he said his name. Oh yeah, laying on the charm: a tactic as old as time.

"_Damn Spike, even I must admit that was smooth,_" Meia thought. "_For such a young and inexperienced drake, he's better than he realizes: this mare will be jumping into his lap before the wedding even happens_." That could be good or bad, depending on one's point of view.

"Well then, Spike, I shall see you at ten o'clock sharp tomorrow," Maria said with a slight giggle as she blushed. "Shall we meet by sun dial nearest the dolphin fountain?"

"That would be excellent, my dear," Spike replied. "I will see you there."

When dinner was finally finished, the unicorn family bid their guests good night. Antonio and Raoul both quickly kissed Meia's outstretched hand in a polite but emotionless manner, as if they had other things on their minds. Angelica and Juana merely curtsied once more, giggling when Spike looked their way. Angelica was last, and Spike did what every true gentleman in his situation would do: politely but firmly kissed her hand. Her blush spread over her face like thunder across the plains at that little move.

As Spike and Meia walked back to their rooms, Meia couldn't help but think Spike's growing penchant for making mares swoon could soon prove troublesome. "_If I do get him to fall in love with me, naturally, I will have to look out for his charm, lest I be swept out into the sea of his feelings,_" she thought, still unsure why she had pictured that in such a romantic manner. Maybe he really was growing on her: that could be dangerous.

Tonight had been the first test: tomorrow would bring more challenges, and hopefully, more triumphs.


	7. Garden Fever

Chapter Seven

Garden Fever

It was early the next morning that Spike rose from his bed, refreshed due to a surprisingly pleasant dream he had had the night before. It had involved him, that lovely Maria, a bottle of fine wine and a secluded beach somewhere in the Mare-ibbean. Trixie and Meia had been there too, but after the wine was gone, things had seemed to go hazy: he had even forgotten what they had been wearing. Then again, he had never had wine before, so maybe _that_ was why he had fogotten what they were wearing.

Stretching lazily, the young drake (drake being the correct term for a male dragon such as himself) grabbed some clothes off a dresser that were nice but wouldn't be ruined if they got filthy: simple pants with a short sleeved collared shirt. Checking the clock on the wall, he saw it around 7:30, which meant he had almost three hours before he was going to meet Maria. Being a fastidious dragon, he went into the other room and took a shower, making sure to clean behind his spines and under the folds of his wings.

Freshly cleaned, he covered his entire body with a small and controlled burst of flames, effectively drying him off and giving his scales a gleam that could have passed for being polished. Dressing in the clothes, he checked the clock again: still two hours to kill after all his grooming. Deciding a walk was in order, he left the still-sleeping form of Meia in her own bed and set off through the castle, intent on learning more about this place. He brought along a small journal and the small camera he had purchased back in Equineland, just in case he came across anything interesting. In a place like this, that was bound to happen.

Well, the first thing he found was a room filled entirely with old armor and weapons, most likely relics or heirlooms of ancestors past. Walking around, he could hardly believe his luck: or Rainbow Dash's, depending on who you would ask. Snapping pictures as he went, he paid special attention to some of the names on the plaques: Charlemane, Ferdinand, Joao, even more than he could name or even hope to pronounce correctly.

"It is rather fascinating, is it not?" a voice said. Spike turned around to see Carlos standing at the room's entrance with a smile on his face. "Relics, much of it anyway: handed down by our ancestors and relatives throughout the centuries, even from the pre-classical pony period." He walked past a set of halberds to stand by Spike, who had just snapped a photo of some ancient armor. The head crest filtered through where one's mane would be, to make one seem even taller and more intimidating. The scales, rusted slightly from age despite the pristine conditions in which it was kept, were like the scales of a fish: overlapping steel plates that covered the vital areas. The chest had a thickened plate emblazoned with the silhouette of a unicorn's head holding its horn high. The arm and leg guards were likened to a thick leather brace covered by a layer of metal, so as to ward off a sword blow. A small pair of gauntlets rested where the hands would have been, each finger crafted with metal-studded leather straps.

"This belonged to our family's founding noble, General Almareconraddius Plainsci," Carlos said, walking around the display. "He was a general in the Roamin Empire, and during its imperialist phase he conquered this area with much difficulty. Later, when the war had gone away and ponies settled here, he was appointed governor. He fell in love with the land he had fought so hard over, and ever since he set down our family's roots here, we've stayed." He was silent for a moment. "In case you were wondering, we adopted the name Del Rivioso many generations ago, as ponies didn't tend to associate Plainsci, or "plains", with the mountainous areas under our rule." Well, that was sort of a given: Spreign had highlands and lowlands, but very few areas of flat terrain.

"Amazing that you can trace your lineage so far back and with such clarity: not many archives in Canterlot have such fine detail of family trees," Spike said, looking around the room at the various other examples of a proud military tradition. "You must be proud of your ancestors, to remember them so well."

"Very much so," Carlos replied, still gazing at the Roamin armor. "Sometimes I wonder how things would be different for us if he _had_decided to go back to Roam or go on to a different theater of war. The choice to stay had been entirely his, and after all he and his fellow soldier ponies went through, none of them were likely ready for another fight or a new place to fight over. Many of the ponies you passed along the way here are descendants of his soldiers: consequently, we care for them better than many nobles might be inclined to. I only wonder if they know how their ancestors felt about this new land."

"We all wonder things like that," Spike said, coming back to the stallion's side. "Might I ask you, what exactly were your plans for Maria before I came into the picture? If you don't mind sharing with me the details?"

Carlos was silent for a few minutes before he said anything. "She was to be given off to the most eligible suitor who we could find. I know it may seem a tad barbaric to you, but in our country nobles and their heirs are literally sold off to the highest bidder, if only to make alliances that secure their future and that of their offspring. My younger brother was married off to a rather brutish mare who has him completely under her hoof, so much so that we rarely see each other any more. I shudder to think of some of the noble's sons I know of that would have, or could have married Maria."

"Why is that, sir?" Spike asked. He had a feeling it was a touchy subject, but if he _was_ to marry this beautiful mare, he had to know everything. Damn, Twilight might have rubbed off on him more than he cared to admit: that inquisitive side was really shining through.

"Many of them are brutish, spoiled colts, little more than bullies in noble cloth," Carlos said, pinching the brow of his nose in resignation and a bit of anger. "They would have crushed my daughter's dreams, forcing her to bear their foals whether she loved them or not. It would have broken my daughter, my lovely Maria, to have to go through such torment, and through her pain, I myself would have been broken."

He turned to the young drake. "That is why I expect you to care for her with every fiber of your being, Spike. You are different from them: you are noble, but without the trappings of being _raised_ royal. You have a heart, a good one from what I've seen, and you know what it takes to make others happy over yourself. She will be your wife, one of them if I am correct to assume as much. I do not ask for you to show favoritism for her over any other you marry: I only ask you to love her."

"I will do my best, sir," Spike said, glancing at a clock: ten minutes to his time with Maria. "If you'll excuse me, I must go: Maria and I are going on a tour of the gardens."

Carlos smiled at this. "Excellent! But I must give you a heads-up: some of the plants in the garden are known for aphrodisiac pollen and petals. If you do go in there, avoid doing _anything_ that could lead to something _more_, all right?"

Spike gulped as he nodded: he knew pheromones such as that had a much lesser effect on dragons, but Maria would be far more susceptible to their effects. He would have to tread lightly indeed if he was going to avoid a scandal: yeah, his future wife jumping him in a garden before they were even married could sully not only his reputation, but hers especially. Then again, the circles of nobility could like spin it around and say he forced himself on her like a brute.

Leaving Carlos alone in the armory, Spike hurried down the halls. Passing archways here and there, he ran past servants as his memory guided him to his destination: to the sun dial, passing the dolphin fountain on the way. Arriving with a minute to spare, he found Maria walking over as well, her dress from the night before replaced with some simpler clothes: a blouse and skirt, though her hat screamed fashion in ways identical to Rarity's.

"Right on time," she said with a smile, holding out her arm for Spike to take. Gladly intertwining his arm with hers, Spike led her through the garden, all the while listening to what she had to say.

"I must admit, Mr. Spike, you are a most punctual dragon," Maria said as they walked. "Arriving what I can only assume was prior to our scheduled time: it puts you in a good light. Most ponies feel it is better to be fashionably late than to be on a time, a trait I find rather... distasteful."

"Why thank you: I find it easier to be early than late," Spike said, feeling his spirit lift at her compliment. His heart already knew what his mind had yet to conclude: Maria and he were meant to be together. The thing was, just how to make her his without descending into the cesspool that was royal politics would be a challenge indeed. "I must say that is a rather fashionable hat: pray tell, how did you come by it?"

"Oh, this old thing?" Maria asked, glancing up at the brow of said hat. "A gift from mother a few years ago: she had bought it in Paris during the coronation of the new king, Louis I believe. I never asked for one, but to show her that I can act with 'grace and dignity', I wear it anyway. The peacock feathers are a bit too, oh I don't know,_extravagant_ for my tastes."

"Then what _are_ your tastes?" Spike asked, truly curious. A noble finding the trapping of nobility to be rather excessive was truly a rare creature.

"Simplicity is elegance unto itself, Mr. Spike," Maria said as they passed under a large vine-covered arch. "For me, the simpler something is, the more enjoyment one can have out of it."

"Please, just call me Spike," the young dragon replied, reminding her of what they had discussed the night before.

"Oh, yes: Spike," she said, as if testing the word on her tongue before continuing. "I prefer dresses that are simple, clean and not designed to make a stallion drool over himself like some household pet eyeing their food dish. I know I am close to adulthood if not already there, but I do not like it when complete strangers ogle me from a distance, or worse: up close. Even in a society where politics saturate everything, I still should like to think of myself as, well, myself. Do you understand?"

"All too much," Spike said as they sat down on a limestone bench near a small pond covered with lily pads. "Back in Equestria, I've seen the royal hassles both princesses have had to go through with. High-class ponies trying to buy their way into lofty positions of power, the gross inconsiderateness of some royal relatives of the princesses, and worst of all, the division between public officials whenever a crisis rears its ugly head. its amazing that they can even run the country as well as they do sometimes."

"It sounds as though you've seen quite a bit, Spike," Maria said, putting both hands over his. "I overheard the servants saying you were on a journey of some kind. Just how far do you plan on traveling?"

"All around the world, health permitting," Spike said, cracking a grin. "Both of the princesses sent me out with the barest of necessities, encouraging me to make my own path as I went along." He was silent for a moment, as if internally debating with himself. "I do hope this doesn't seem too personal a question, Maria, but have you ever wondered what things were like outside of Spreign? As in, if you were to accompany someone you knew, would you see it: the world, that is?"

Maria's mouth opened slightly, as if slack-jawed. Oh no: that _was_ too forward, wasn't it. Spike opened his own mouth to apologize for such a question, but he was cut off by her answer.

"Yes, yes I would love to see more of the world," she said, her smile returning along with a far-off and dreamy look in her eyes. A small gust of wind blew a few errant petals from a nearby potted plant in their direction. "I just don't know if I could go without someone I knew. My sisters are too young, my brothers would like nothing more than to stay in Spreign, and mother and father have too much to do."

"Well, things like that could easily be taken care of," Spike said, remembering to gently squeeze her hand as a sign of reassurance.

Maria's eyes zeroed in on Spike's own. "Taken care of?" she asked, her voice sounding... different. "When you said with someone I knew... did you perhaps mean yourself?"

_Uh oh: play it cool, play it cool._ "Uh, possibly: only if you wish to infer it that way," Spike said, trying to use courtly manners as a way of deflecting a possible confrontation. "I assume you _didn't _mean me."

"What if I did?" she asked leaning closer. _Uh oh again: danger close, danger close._ "What if the first one I thought of was you, Spike the handsome dragon? What if I wanted to travel all over the world with _you_?"

_Abandon ship! All men to the life rafts!_ "Maria, are you feeling all right? You seem somewhat... dreamy," Spike said, inching away slightly, only to have her scoot closer to him than before.

"Oh, that," she giggled, absentmindedly flicking a few errant bits of her mane to the side. Wait, how had some of it fallen out of her hat without him noticing? "Maybe it's because I'm with you, silly."

Then Spike saw it: those few errant petals were lining the top of her hat. The color, a deep red, stood out glaringly against said hat. Carlos had warned him, but Maria had lead him the whole way through the gardens. Had she taken him to this spot on purpose? Had she-

His thoughts were cut off when she connected his lips with her own. By Celestia's royal mane, her lips were softer than the silken bedsheets he had slept in the night before. Feeling his eyes roll into the back of his head just from the experience, a surprise came when her one hand grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him closer. She was putting so much heat, so much passion into the kiss: he had never felt anything like it before. Trixie had been good, but this:_this_ was something found in romance novels. no, scratch that: this was something ponies in romance novels dreamed about, nevermind experienced.

Her one hand pulled his other hand up to her blouse, the fingers pushing his into the fabric. Oh Celestia, she was forcing him to feel her up. Feel her soft, firm breasts and luxurious olive pelt, one of his claws teasing a nipple ever so slightly...

Spike's eyes snapped open just as his wings became rigid, as did something else. Flapping, his withdrew his hands from her as the wind rushed around them, sending the petals and the chemicals within them off down another path.

It was a few more glorious seconds of kissing before Maria's mind must have cleared. Maria's eyes opened widely as she realized what she was doing, though her lips were still crushed against his. Without a sound she withdrew her lips from Spike's, confusion written all over her face. "Wha-what just happened?" she asked.

"Petals from an aphrodisiac plant messed with your head," Spike said, taking in a breath of air: he had forgotten how to breathe during the kiss. Just to be safe, he scooted back a bit farther, so as to not seem to invade her personal space. "You, uh... kinda tried to force yourself on me. Or force me onto you: I was a bit confused myself as to your intentions."

"Oh no, I'm so sorry!" she said, burying her face in her hands. "I couldn't help myself, you being such an attractive drake and all, and my terrible lonesomeness, and the stress from arguing with my mother. Oh, you must think me horrible, some overeager tart who-,"

Spike's hand on her shoulder cut her off mid-sentence. "It is not your fault, Maria," he said softly as she removed her hands from her face. "And no, I don't think you some overeager... whatever you were going to say. Trust me when I say this: I forgive you for any transgression you think you may have visited upon me."

Maria sniffed a little. "Was... was it all right? By your standards? Surely you've kissed many other mares by now." Oh Celestia: she was thinking she had done a horrible job of kissing!

Spike thought back to the train ride: better not tell her about _that_. "Well, actually, I believe you're only the second mare I've ever kissed."

"R-really?" she asked, sounding a bit shocked. "But... but you're so handsome! The mares should be throwing themselves at your feet!"

Again, not telling her about the train ride was a very good idea. "While I've been surrounded by mares my whole life, I never truly have had much experience with the fairer sex," he replied. Much experience was right: that romp, or romps, with Trixie, hadn't really expanded upon his interaction capabilities with mares, besides on how to please one.

They sat in silence for a moment, unsure of what else to say. "So... was it any good?" Maria asked quietly.

"Was what good?" Spike asked, nonplussed. Man, he really needed to learn to pay attention more.

"The... the kiss," she said, her voice becoming almost a whisper.

"Well, yeah, actually," Spike said. Her eyes seemed to light up as he went on. "To tell you the truth, and keeping this between us, I've never felt a kiss like that before. I've only read of a few kisses like that in all of the literature I've studied. You truly are a passionate pony, Miss Del Rivioso."

She blushed, the redness visible through her pelt. "Why thank you, Spike the dragon," she said, twirling an errant bit of her mane in one finger. "I must admit you yourself are quite the kisser too."

A bell sounded in the castle, causing them both to jump. "Wow, it must be one o'clock already," Maria said, leading Spike out of the garden. The saw the sun dial: yep, it was at one in the afternoon. They had been in that maze, talking and almost making out for three whole hours? Time sure flew when one was having... uh, fun.

"I must go," Maria said, looking at Spike with a curious expression. "If you don't mind me asking, could... could we kiss again? As a parting until next time?"

Inwardly, Spike knew he had stolen her heart. "Of course, my dear," he replied, pulling her closer to him. Tentatively, she leaned up to kiss him, but this time he was not caught unawares. With a sudden surge of passion he didn't know he had, he pulled her close to him, their bodies flush as he kissed her. His tongue dueled with hers, overwhelming her defenses as he ravished her mouth with skill and dexterity that surprised them both, especially him. Good lord, he was Casanova incarnate right there, and he didn't even know how he knew who that was.

Had his eyes been open, he would have seen her eyes roll into the back of her head, with one of her hooves rising up behind her like out of a fairy tale. Pulling away lest he let the kiss go too far, Spike was glad to see the young pony was blushing more furiously than before, her entire face almost red. With a hasty bow she bid him farewell, hurrying along the hallway. She had a spring in her step he had not seen before, and she almost bumped into a pillar, as if she were off somewhere else.

He had her: now it was time to reel her in. But first, he needed to find Carlos...

Well, finding the patron of the Del Rivioso family was easier than the young dragon had expected. The stallion was in his study, pouring over something that looked like financial reports while a few other stacks floated around him. He looked up as Spike stood at the entrance. "Come in Spike, come in!" he said, gesturing to a chair that magically pulled itself away from a wall. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes, yes indeed," the young prince replied. "I do believe I have captured Maria's heart, your lordship. I intend to marry her before I leave to continue my royal journey, but I lack the resources and help to make it happen."

The colossal smile that graced Carlos's face upon hearing the word "marriage" faltered slightly in confusion. "By whatever do you mean?"

"I was hoping to propose to her at a special gathering... a ball, if you will," Spike said, fumbling over the word. He wasn't worried about the dancing or her answer to his proposal: he could dance splendidly well and he knew she'd say yes. It was all about the timing: he was due to leave sooner than he had thought, what with the prospect of possibly being stuck here if the weather took a turn for the worst, as it was wont to do wherever he went, it seemed.

Carlos jumped up from behind his desk and ran over to Spike, who instinctively curled up to protect himself. However, he did not receive a beating, but was instead encased in a bone-crushing (for a normal pony) hug. "Oh Spike: that is a wonderful idea!" the stallion said, letting the poor dragon go before said dragon had to forcibly extricate himself from the situation. "Don't you worry about a thing: the ball shall take place, let me see... three days from now, with the wedding two days after that, and then you and Maria (and your friend Meia, of course) will leave to continue your journey the day after that! It is perfect!"

Spike nodded in agreement, though the suddenness still overwhelmed him a little bit. That didn't exactly leave a lot of time for a honeymoon, but then again with all the presents Maria would likely be given, they'd _need_ two or three carriages. "Mr. Del Rivioso, what should I do in the meantime? I-,"

He was cut off by the stallion. "Please, call me dad: you will be soon enough," the unicorn said with a tear in his eye. "Oh, I must prepare everything!"

"I should help... 'dad'," Spike said, noticing the look of happiness when he said "dad". "What can I do?"

"You prepare yourself to marry my daughter, young drake," Carlos said, things floating around the room as his magic levels increased dramatically. "Leave everything else to me, and make sure to wear the clothes we'll be sending you at the ball."

Spike nodded, knowing the clothes would be tailor-made and likely very expensive. "Anything else?"

"Break the news to your Meia friend, but other than that, steel yourself for the moment when it all comes together," the Spreignish stallion said, pumping a fist by his side with gusto. "This shall be the ball of the decade!"

Spike inwardly gulped: this was going to be one of the biggest event of someone's life, but who's: Maria's, or his?


	8. Ballroom Blitz and a Special Night

Chapter Eight

Ballroom Blitz and a Special Night

The first day after Spike had told his plans to Carlos had passed by in a hurry, much to his surprise. Breaking the news to Meia had been rather simple, and even he was surprised by her sincere but seemingly chilly congratulations.

Of course, he couldn't have guessed her real feelings on the matter. When she was alone, Chrysalis couldn't help but reveal herself to be conflicted over these developments, even arguing with herself in the mirror. She would have to seduce him soon enough, lest he permanently think of "Meia" as nothing more than a close friend. But where to strike would be important: perhaps in Prance?

That being said, Spike was indeed busy the second day before the ball. Much to his surprise, it would not be like the Grand Galloping Gala like in Equestria. This would be a masquerade ball, a custom that came over on trade ship from the port city of Veneighse. Everyone would be in fabulous outfits of varying design, as all of Maria's extended family and many other nobles were to be invited. Spike himself would be greeting many of the guests with Carlos and Isabella, though if he had to put up with stuffy nobles for Maria's hand in marriage, he would gladly do so.

So it was that the third day came to pass, and Spike had not seen hide nor hoof of Maria since that day in the garden. Isabella had reassured him she was merely preparing for what she thought would be a grand ball, but secretly Spike had a feeling she knew something larger was at play. The hours seemed to pass by in a blur as he was prepped and readied for the night. Soon enough, carriages began to arrive as darkness fell, and Meia had left him with Carlos after they had been fully dressed up.

Meia looked a bit like a lion, with her golden dress offset by the silver mask she wore. It did a rather odd job of hiding her figure, though anyone with half a brain could tell she was still a mare. Spike, on the other hoof, was still a bit stunned by his own costume. Dark pants that seemed black as coal, with a matching cape that swirled over his wings. He wore black boots, suitable for dancing, for which he was grateful. His hat, a large black sombrero, did a fine job of hiding his spines from any onlookers, and the black mask he work just added to the mystique. His shirt was, you guessed it, black, with a black vest over it. Seriously, whoever had designed his costume had a raging erection for the color black. Rarity would have likely torn them from his body and set them on fire, shouting "abomination" and "crime against fashion" or something along those lines.

Still, he couldn't help but admit it was rather fantastic. He looked a lot like... what was his name again? Zonno? Zotto? Zor...

"Here they come," Carlos whispered, snapping Spike out his daydream. Up the pathway walked nobles from all over the general area, with a few coming from all the way near Portucolt and Southern Prance. As they approached the main entrance, Spike and Carlos were to greet them and shake their hands, though kissing the hands of the mares was something Spike could say he wasn't excited about.

"Ah, Lord and Lady Albonietto," Carlos said as a pair of earth ponies approached them. "It is with great honor I welcome you to our masquerade ball."

"We were glad to receive your invitation," the mare said with a smile plainly visible under her mask. She looked over at Spike as he kissed her offered hand. "And who might this young colt be?"

"A friend of the family, you might say," Spike said, shaking hands with the mare's husband. "A very close friend: Spike is my name, milady."

"Well, Mr. Spike I must say you have an impeccable taste in friends," the stallion said. "We've been friends of the Del Riviosos for many years now: it is great luck to have so wonderful a family such as themselves to call you friend."

"Thank you, Mr. Albonietto," Spike said as they passed by. "Be sure to have a wonderful time!"

"Oh, we will!" the mare called back. Spike turned to see another pair approaching, though from the sudden tension coming off in waves from Carlos, he had a feeling this wouldn't be so wonderful.

They were a pair of unicorns, followed by what could only be their son. Their noses were up in the air, as if to avoid smelling anything not royal in nature. All three carried themselves with the same kind of posture that Spike had seen back in the Grand Galloping Gala, before he had gone to the donut shop, at any rate, though the smaller one seemed less enthusiastic.

Carlos put on a forced smile, though thankfully it would be hard to know it's genuineness from behind his mask. "Ah, Lord and Lady Calretto," he said, taking a bow. "I welcome you to our ball. And I see you've brought your son Colombus: excellent."

"Yes, yes, it is excellent, is it not?" Lord Calretto said, his cold eyes looking upon Spike. "And who might this be?"

"Spike, at your service, my lord," the dragon replied, keeping his tone civil and cheerful.

"Service indeed, if his posture is anything to say about it," Lady Calretto snorted through her golden mask. "I do not know where you find these servants or how you discipline them, Carlos, but in our house we would not stand for such slouches." They walked past, Colombus giving Spike a somewhat apologetic look.

"Yes, that would be Lord and Lady Calretto, the bane of Spreign's lords," Carlos said after more guests arrived and were greeted. "Among the worst of the worst in all the land, but at least one good thing is going to come out of their family."

"What is that, sir?" Spike said as the last carriages left and no more guests arrived.

"Their colt, Colombus, is set to inherit most of their estates, with the rest split between his horrible sisters. He is nothing like any of them: in fact, I'd say he was more like you," the stallion said as they closed the doors behind them. "Shall we find the others?"

"Of course," Spike said, descending the stairs and working his way through the crowds of socializing and dancing ponies. Soft dancing music played as the two worked their way past tables lined with foods specially made for that night.

"Ah, there they are," Carlos said, leading Spike over to the rest of the family. Juana and Angelica looked absolutely adorable in their own little costumes, while Antonio and Raoul looked decidedly bored in their own dark suits. Isabella was resplendently dressed as well, though Spike's eyes were soon drawn to another figure among the family.

Maria: oh dear Celestia, did Maria look fabulous. Her mane done in a style similar to what Spike had seen in Rarity's chic boutique magazines, her mask concealing none of her beauty and somehow actually heightening it. Her dress, blindingly white with silver and gold trimmings, hugged her figure and showed off how she had grown: very well, in Spike's mind. She carried herself the air of royalty, but yet she seemed not overwhelmed or dragged down by it, like Lady Calretto. Maria was a young mare, of fit breeding age, a royal of high nobility, and an absolutely stunning pony, both in personality and in figure.

Spike, for once, found he was too dumbstruck to speak. He couldn't even form a simple "hello" when Maria saw him and walked up to him.

"Good evening, Spike," she said, curtsying with a royal demeanor that Spike had seen only in the princesses of Canterlot. For the merest fraction of a second, he felt truly unprepared to ask for her hand in marriage. Just what was he getting himself into?

But he steeled his nerves: he knew in his heart that the moment he had laid eyes on her, he had fallen in love. It would seem strange to some, asking to marry a noble's daughter only a few days after knowing her, but he knew he was an extraordinarily different kind of nobility. To go so long without knowing his royal heritage, and to go so long without be betrothed or taking a bride, made him unique in ways most ponies would not understand.

"Uh, um... good evening to you too, Maria," he finally said, kissing her hand in greeting. Even though he could barely see it, her face blushed when his lips made contact with her hand. "Shall we dance?" he asked, gesturing out towards the floor where other couples were enjoying the gentle music.

"Yes, please," she said, letting him lead her away from her family. Spike looked back to see Carlos give him a wink, but when Isabella saw it, the stallion made to rub his eye to conceal the gesture. Out onto the floor the young nobles strode, Spike resembling the dashing rogue so many romance novels focused on and Maria, the epitome of a royal's daughter.

The music began to pick up, and so our young couple danced, twirling this way and that, amidst a sea of colorfully dressed ponies. Around and around they spun and moved, in turn with the rest of the crowd, though in Spike's mind they could have been alone, so focused was he on Maria. In his mind, he felt that he would ask her soon, but after the music was over: right now, it was all about him, her, and their dance.

And dance they did, moving through and around other couples without so much as looking at another pony in the room. Twirling her around, Spike held her close to his body, hers matching his even through the height difference. She blushed beneath her mask as he twirled her again and let her fall backwards into her arms, just as the music stopped.

Letting her lean off of himself so as to stand up on her own, Spike led her away from the now-emptying dance floor towards a veranda. Soon enough, the festivities behind them seemed to fade away until the only sounds were those of their steps and the rustling of their clothes.

"Maria," Spike began, stopping at the edge of the balcony. The moon shone bright that night, a reminder that Luna was watching him even then: he took solace in its light.

"Yes, Spike?" she asked, turning to look at him.

"I..." Boy, it was sure hard to form the right words: his insides were twisting into knots he didn't even have words for. "I... I have something to ask you: something personal."

She was silent for a moment, though Spike could tell her eyes had widened underneath her mask. "Yes?" Maria said, her voice a bit breathless.

Spike took her hands into his own, gently squeezing them. "Maria, I never felt this way before about somepony. I'd never thought I'd leave Equestria just to find someone like you. You... you are an amazing unicorn, Maria."

She was blushing underneath that mask, which he wanted to suddenly tear off and kiss deeply. He held back, though: it was time to ask her. Maria Almareconraddo Del Rivioso, will you mar-"

"Yes," she said, cutting him off.

Spike blinked: what? His brain frazzled out: he hadn't even finished and she had said yes? "T-truly?"

"Of course: I said yes and I keep my word," she said simply.

"But how... how could you have known what I was going to ask?" Spike said, flabbergasted that she seemed rather calm, even though her breathing had quickened slightly.

"Mother spilled the beans soon after she heard it from father," Maria said, looking up at the stars. "As a way to amend our bridges, as they say, before I were to depart. She didn't want us to part ways without reconciling our past disgreements."

"But... but I'd never force you to come with me if you didn't want to leave," Spike said.

"I know that: I choose to come with you of my own free will," the unicorn said. "The thing is, Spike, I almost immediately felt something for you the day I ran into you in the halls. Of course, I first thought it was fascination and embarrassment: but soon enough, or from what I heard about my mother meeting father, inside me it blossomed into something more. I fell head over hooves for you, mister dragon. And yes, the garden was part of a test to see if you truly were noble as you appeared: only a true gentlecolt, or in your case gentledrake, would have resisted my advances."

Spike's mouth hung open, aghast at how well he had been played. This Maria... she was deceivingly cunning, more so than he could have thought. "So... so you were planning much of this?"

"Of course. When I told father what I felt for you, I knew he'd gently steer you in the right direction. Your notion of a ball? Entirely by our design, as we normally eat in smaller quarters: we ate in the larger dining room so as to plant in your mind the seed of what we would be doing when you mustered up the courage to ask me." She batted her eyelashes. "Imagine my surprise when you not only turned out to be such a gentledrake and a punctual dragon, but a skilled dancer to boot."

Spike wasn't sure if he was supposed to feel indignant or elated, either from being played or for not having to deal with an emotionally distraught mare that would have been torn between him and her family. "So... what of the wedding?"

"Oh, that. Well, I made sure mother and father would take care of everything, so it will be a surprise to me as well. Know this, Spike the dragon," she said reaching up and giving him a peck on the cheek. "I'll expect you to be on time, well dressed, and completely committed to taking this first big step." With that, she walked away, her manner changing as she approached her family. Spike could see it: she was happy and excited.

Well, that took care of one problem: now all he had to do was marry this cunning mare.

The night passed without anything else exciting happen, though Spike had a feeling more than just Maria and him were gearing up for the wedding. As pertaining to their wishes, both Spike's and Maria's, it would be a small, private affair, with only the family, the servants and Meia attending.

Speaking of Meia, she had found herself talking to her reflection in the mirror not long after Spike had fallen asleep.

"It must begin in Prance," she muttered as she brushed her mane. "I have been lucky he has only chosen one bride so far. Should he choose another, I fear I will have to make him fall in love with me: a very dangerous prospect indeed. I can only hope something happens that will help expedite the process.

Two days later, Spike was wondering just how in the world he had managed to remain so calm in preparation for one of his possibly many wedding days. The servants had been in a frenzy polishing everything they possibly could. Maria had been too busy to see him, and Isabella made sure he went nowhere near anyplace they could meet discreetly. Meanwhile, Carlos had coached him in all the duties that would befall him once the marriage was over, including a dowry of seven thousand gold coins, several pieces of armor specially fitted for him (ceremonial, of course, as a dragon's scales were nigh impenetrable), and transportation for Maria, Meia and himself, with one of the three carriages being much larger.

First and foremost, however, had been something he had been putting off for days now: a letter to Twilight and the rest of the Mane Six. They had no doubt been wondering of his time in Spreign and were anxious to hear of what happened since his last letter. He had been fastidious in keeping track of his journal and had now filled out nearly half of the first one, just covering his journey across the Barnlantic and his time in Equineland, Portucolt and Spreign.

So, late that afternoon, several hours before he was to get married, he sat down and began to write the letter.

"_Dear Twilight and all my friends, you have no doubt been wondering just what I've been up to since my last letter. Upon entering Spreign, we were stopped and attacked by a lone bandit. No worries, we came out just fine, plus we split his ill-gotten gains and gave away a third of it to some less fortunate ponies._"

He paused for a second. "_The Del Rivioso family live in a magnificent fortress, with gardens and statues and fountains of all kinds. They are a good family, though they will soon be family to me. Yes, I am getting married: to their eldest daughter, Maria. She's a unicorn a bit like you, Twilight: very smart and compassionate, though she has a simple demeanor that appeals to me in a way I cannot describe. I'll send you some wedding pictures as soon as I can. I am sorry this letter is not longer, but duty calls and I will send you a longer one in due time. Keep in touch; Spike._"

He rolled the scroll up and held in his fingertips. With a gentle breath of green flame, the scroll vanished in a puff of smoke, teleporting to the library all the way back in Ponyville. Huh, Ponyville: a long ways away, and yet he felt like he had only left it a few days previously. He couldn't focus on that small feeling of homesickness now: that was done. Now it was time to get ready to marry his bride.

His first bride, anyway: he still had a ways to go, but he knew Maria would be with him the whole way.

A few hours later, as night truly fell over the land...

Spike waited at the altar, doing his best not to fidget in the expensive suit the local tailor had custom-sewn for him. It was just like the suit he had worn all those years ago at the first Grand Galloping Gala he had attended, though now he was far larger than he had been back then. He wings, too: they were a nice addition.

Suddenly, soft music began playing from the orchestral ensemble Carlos had arranged for. Turning away from the small, elderly priest-like pony, he looked up to the main entrance to the room, where his eyes nearly bugged out of his sockets. If Spike hadn't used his tail to secretly prop himself up, he might have fallen over from shock right then and there.

In walked Maria, escorted by her father, but at the same time, it couldn't have possibly been Maria. Her clothes... her mane... her features were all pristine and spruced up in ways Spike couldn't even imagine. Her hooves made a very soft clacking on the floor as she approached, her dress a resplendent golden color so powerful Spike felt as though it had been dipped in sunlight. Her mane, normally fixed so that it held itself up above her head, was sleek and smooth, falling down around her face like waterfalls cascading down a pure marble edifice. Maria's eyes glittered behind the golden veil and she held herself with such regality that Spike forgot for an instant she was Spreigninsh and instead thought he was marrying a cousin of Celestia herself. But that vanished as he took her hand into his own and both looked towards the elderly pony priest, who was smiling.

A toothless smile, at any rate: he could have been Granny Smith's grandfather. "Do you, Spike the dragon, heir to the throne of Equestria's Triumvirate Council, take Maria Almareconraddo Del Rivioso, to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and health, through toil and peace, in times of loss and joy? To take upon the mantle of her husband and co-proprietor of her estate?"

"I do," Spike said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. The ancient pony turned to Maria.

"Do you, Maria, take Spike to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and health, through toil and peace, in times of loss and joy? To take up the title of his wife, and to bear his children, and love him with all your heart?" It seemed the necessities of one gender were quite a bit more lax than for the other: males had it easier.

"I gladly do," she said. She also squeezed Spike's hand, her fingers laced with his.

The prehistoric pony smiled once more, showing nothing but gums. "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Spike turned and slowly lifted Maria's veil exposing her radiant smile to his own eyes. No, he would not tear up: he would not cry like Carlos was doing off to his side. Closing in, he pressed his lips to Maria's gently but firmly: she returned with full force, throwing her arms around his neck. The rest of the onlookers cheered, the servants and Maria's family clapping as they rose from their seats.

Spike and Maria broke apart, breathless and smiling. Together, they walked down the small aisle, all the while small spells shot off into the air from the gathered unicorns like miniature fireworks. As soon as they reached the door to leave, Carlos caught up with them.

"Down the hall and to the left are your quarters for the night," he said, shaking Spike's free hand. "Welcome to the family."

"I am most welcomed, dad," Spike said, earning a teardrop of happiness from the already sniffling stallion. Leading Maria out of the room, they turned and went to their honeymoon room, as pertaining to Carlos' instructions.

Shutting the door behind them, Spike turned to see Maria fly towards the changing room: she definitely was done waiting for this night. "I'll be right out," she called as he saw some of her clothes fly into the air.

Spike himself began to undress, sitting down on the bed as the moonlight shone through the dark room like a pale heavenly beacon. As he took off his pants, the young drake couldn't help but feel as though Luna had meant for this to happen. She had been the one to choose where he was destined to go, and though he didn't particularly want to not go to some of these places, it still felt a bit strange how she had been so specific.

Basking in the glow of the moonlight, Spike finished with the last of his undergarments just as a voice sounded behind him.

"Spike?" Maria whispered, hiding in the shadows. He turned around, his own features cast in shadow as the moonlight behind him made him seem dark and mysterious. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," he said, his voice barely louder than hers. "Come to me, Maria."

Soft hoof-falls on the floor let his ears dictate where his eyes should look. Still, when she stepped into the moonlight, he couldn't help but inhale sharply.

She was immaculate in her barest form. Her fur shone in the moonlight like a lamp, the olive-colored pelt almost looking the color of cream. Her mane fell down to her shoulders, with her face framed perfectly within. Maria's breasts, which had seemed so remarkable in her dress, were simply astounding: full, firm, and very perky. Not too large, not too small, with rosy nipples pointing outwards at Spike. Her legs, perfectly proportioned, trailed up to firm-looking hindquarters: you could probably bounce a jewel off of them. As his eyes graced her marehood, he simply knew he had made the right decision to come on this journey: he had fallen in love, all right.

Maria, on the other hand, was looking Spike up and down with a fervor that surprised even her. His chest, strong and robust-looking, seemed to radiate with strength. His tail behind him flickered back and forth like a cat's, muscled in ways she didn't know they could be. His spines along his head gave him an other-worldy appearance, as though he were a creature of the night come to take her away. His arms lay by his sides, muscular and long: his hands seemed larger than she remembered.

His waistline was trim and slender, though that did nothing to hide the muscles lining his stomach and side. Every piece stood out, from his upper abdominals all the way down to his... his...

"Oh," she gasped softly, taking an involuntary step forward. He was... well, gifted might have been an understatement. She knew from her anatomy classes that stallions and mares differed, of course, but she had had no idea just how... different a dragon was from a stallion.

She drew closer, and closer, tempted to jump him right then and there. But she wouldn't, she couldn't: she had no experience, and even though he had not said anything on the matter, she could tell he knew how to use his... weapon. Stepping up to him, she leaned up and captured his lips with hers, just as his arms snaked around her and pulled her flush with his body. He was warm, undeniably warm: she felt as though she would melt into a puddle of goo right there.

A soft jab poked her in the stomach, and she looked down to see his... second tail swelling to life. Would it hurt? Would it even fit?

Gently, Spike lay her down on the bed, the moonlight casting his features into shadow more so than they had before. He continued to kiss her, his hands roaming over her body as she moaned into his mouth. She felt a tingling between her legs, and she knew her body was preparing itself.

But as quick as a flash, his lips left her mouth and moved to her neck, where he continued to kiss her. Curious as to why, but not moving a muscle, she felt his kisses move from her neck to her collarbone, and then to the swell of her breasts...

Suddenly, a warm, wet sensation enveloped one of her nipples and she nearly squealed in surprise. Lightly sucking on her nipple, Spike slowly massaged the other one with a free hand, tweaking the other nipple to its full hardness. Then he switched, without so much as say a word. Maria pressed him into her breasts with both her hands, urging him to go on. It was instinctual, the feeling of a mouth suckling on her breasts, yet at the same time it was so carnal and felt so _damned good_.

She almost cried in dismay as he licked between the valley of her breasts and continued to go lover, his lips and tongue trailing over her stomach. Yet lower he went, and lower, and lower, until...

All right, she did gasp there: he was laying a pattern of butterfly kisses around the outside of her marehood, which was rapidly swelling at the sudden ministrations. Around and around he circled, until he at last lay a kiss directly on her nether lips, sending an electrical shock through her system. By her ancestors, she involuntarily dug her fingers into the silken sheets as he kissed her beyond what she could describe. Just when she thought he was done surprising her, she felt something enter her: something small, wriggling, and absolutely blazing hot.

She looked down as best she could to see Spike's elongated tongue disappearing into her innermost core, the sensation overwhelming her mind like a tidal wave of pleasure. He was pleasing her, worshipping her, making her his... without any visible effort, it seemed. She clenched her legs around his head, urging him to go deeper: which is exactly what he did.

Suddenly, and without warning, something built inside the mare and exploded, her now sopping-wet marehood sloshing a bit as she experienced her first orgasm. Her body felt like it was on fire, as if the dragon eating her out had breathed flame into her very being. Maria continued to spasm from the ministrations until she couldn't anymore, and felt back, sweating. Spike looked up as his tongue retracted, taking care to lick her sweet juices from all over his face.

"S-Spike," she said, as breathless as though she had run the entire length of Spreign. "That... that-"

"-Is not everything," he said, standing up and looking down at her. His proud shaft stood up in the moonlight, looking like a battering ram about to penetrate a castle's softened defenses. He crawled over her, his body hovering over her like a protective shadow.

"Maria, do you want this?" he asked softly.

"Y-yes, yes I do," she said, preparing for the worst. With that, Spike gently grabbed hold of his member and guided it downwards, the tip brushing against her entrance. Rubbing himself up and down her soaking nethers, he slowly pushed the tip into her, earning a stifled gasp from his wife.

"Shh, shh, it will be okay," he said, watching her reaction. She nodded slowly, which had him push a bit further in. Even though she was incredibly wet, she was also incredibly tight. Slowly, inch by inch, he pushed into her, his lips capturing hers so as to stifle her gasping. After what felt like an eternity, he couldn't go in anymore: he had pushed in all the way to his heavy dragon balls.

"Wish I had more time to spend doing this," he thought as he let himself rest inside her. "But I will make the most of it."

With that, he began to gently pull out, his ridged shaft causing Maria to tremble and almost outright buck against him in pleasure. Soon enough, he was almost all of the way out, leaving only the swollen head inside. Again he pushed in slowly, a bit easier this time as Maria's body had come to accept his size and had stretched to less painful extremes to accommodate him.

So this went on, every thrust becoming easier and easier as Maria's juices trailed down her rump onto the sheets. Spike slowly picked up the pace, at least until Maria's legs wrapped around his firm ass and pushed him in a bit harder.

"Please, more," she moaned, her voice sounding ragged. So Spike obliged, pushing into her with an increasing pace that left her trembling: another boost to speed had her bucking up against him. So they rutted like this for minutes, Maria not telling Spike just how many orgasms she felt as though were spiraling through her body. It was like one after another after another, forming a chain that seemed to stretch on and on.

Spike felt himself approaching his limit, and with all the business he had had to take care of for the last few days, he was feeling exhausted. "Maria," he whispered, just as her last orgasm faded. "Come for me."

She did, and it eclipsed all the other ones she had had: a monstrous jolt tore through her exhausted body as her shuddering marehood clenched down on Spike's mighty invader, sending him over the edge. Just as he began to spurt into her, he pushed in all the way, feeling his balls slap against her firm flank as he did so. His shaft pumped and pumped more and more into her, so much so that a bit of it began to leak out onto their sheets. They lay together like this as their bodies began to wind down. Soon enough, Spike rolled to the side, still holding Maria to him: her gentle snores greeted his ears.

"Goodnight, my love," he whispered, kissing her on the forehead. With that, he closed his eyes as well.


	9. Packing and Trekking

Chapter Nine

Packing and Trekking

Spike awoke early the next morning to find Maria's soft body sprawled over him, still asleep from the night before. A peaceful expression was plastered across her face, with her mane a jumbled mess from their wedding night's consummation. The room wasn't cold, but her nipples were poking against his chest: a pleasant dream, perhaps? Gently slipping out from underneath her, though not gentle enough to stop her nipples from rubbing against him and earning a soft moan from her lips. Rising to his feet, Spike kiss her on the forehead and went to the window, looking out as the sun rose. The light was filtering over the mountains, but with the castle being so much lower than the mountains, the sun itself would not be visible for some time.

There was a gentle knock at the door, the noise causing Spike to look over in surprise and a tinge of curiosity. Wrapping one of the spare blankets around him quickly like some makeshift toga, Spike walked over and cracked open the door: it was one of the servants.

"Your papers, senior," he responded, handing Spike all of the financial, political and social papers he had been entrusted with. With a nod he closed the door, walking over to a table and sitting down, deciding now would be as good as any time to look through these. Once the journey began again, he wouldn't exactly have a flat steady surface to work upon.

First off, the financial aspect: flipping through a few scrolls and pieces of parchment, Spike saw that through the marriage, he had inherited a few islands far off the Spreignish coast, called the Canary Islands. They were, by the reports, inhabited by only a few small towns and cities, with much of the islands being designated vacation hotspots and natural preserves. Through the marriage, not only did Spike have duties to oversee about this place, but he also collected a small tithe correlated to the amount of imports bought by the residents. They were not entriely self-sustaining, and as such, goods were always comig in by ship.

"Hmm, judging from the description, that'll be a wonderful place for a vacation," he thought. "If I'll ever need one after this world tour, of course." He looked over a few more papers, still rather numerous in quantity.

Well, according to one specially sealed with the wax of Carlos's own stamp, all of Maria's inherited estates, quite a few in number, were to be divided up by Spike and Maria to their descendants, though it wasn't specified if they had to live there. Spike had a feeling any foals they had would want to see their mother's family, and as such he'd find a way to make that possible without a three week ocean voyage. A ship like the Crowhop, though rather pleasant considering there were plenty of other forms of travel, was no place for foals.

Foals: he couldn't believe he was only married from the night before and already he was planning for the future. Their future: his, Maria's, and their foal's. So many questions raced through his head. What would they look like? Who's personality would they have? How was he going to care for them, should they be more like a dragon and less like a pony? he did not look forward to the teething period if they were dragons: they would bite literally _everything_, as he had.

"Mmm," a voice sounded from behind him. Turning around, he saw Maria sitting up in bed, one of the sheets wrapped around her body as well, though it did a poor job of concealing her curves. She looked over at her husband with sleepy eyes and a lazy smile. "Good morning, Spike dear."

"Good morning, Maria," he replied, shuffling a few more papers. "Have a good night's sleep?"

"Oh, most definitely: I was exhausted," she said, rising to her hooves and walking over, the sheet trailing after her like some cape. She didn't sound like the 'exhausted' part was a bad thing, either. "What's all this?" she asked, gesturing to the papers in front of Spike.

"Oh, these were just dropped off a few minutes ago by one of the servants," Spike said, riffling through a few more papers concerning titles. "All of the things that come with the marriage, you know? Heirs, estates, titles, finances..."

"Hmm, sounds boring," Maria said, draping her arms over Spike's shoulders and kissing him on the cheek. "Well, except for the part about heirs. What say we go for another walk in the gardens, dear husband?" It didn't sound like a question.

"Sounds delightful," Spike replied, turning his head and kissing her back on her cheek. "Shall we get dressed?"

"Mmm, sure," Maria said, walking away. Spike turned to see her disappear into the room from whence she had emerged the night before. "I'll be right out," she called.

Spike stood up from the table, the blanket falling from around his form. Dressing in a pair of clothes a servant had left in the room the day before, he finished buttoning his shirt in time to see Maria walk out in the very same clothes she had worn when they had been in the garden only a few days ago. Well, minus the hat: she had made clear she didn't want to wear it if she didn't have to.

Arm in arm, the young couple strode out of the room, headed for the gardens. In the shadows of an archway, Chrysalis watched them, her eyes burning with an odd sort of flame. It was neither hatred nor envy, things on might expect of a creature so twisted. No; in her guise as a unicorn, Chrysalis had forgotten just how powerful an urge to be by someone really was, and she could sense the love coming off of the pair in droves that nearly drove her to her knees. She needed to tap into that, to feed on that, but that in and of itself could prove dangerous. So strong a love such as this, if it were directed towards her, could overwhelm her senses and reduce her to a blubbering wreck: she'd need to take extra precautions.

As the sun continued to rise over the magnificent mountaintops in the distance, Spike and Maria reached the inner circle of the garden, the exact spot where he had successfully passed her test of resisting her advances. Strangely, though, there was a blanket there, along with a small basket.

"What's all this?" Spike asked, sitting down with his wife on the blanket.

"Oh, this?" she said, opening the basket and retrieving a small scroll with magic from her horn. "This here is just a small list of things we'll be packing to leave with. Of course, much of it you'll have to send back to your home in Equestria to await for us when we get there. The only question is, how will you do that? Much of this is too valuable to be simply tossed aboard a ship."

"Dragon fire," Spike said simply. "It contains magical properties many ponies have only heard in fables: I can transport anything needed through a good breath of flame. I can assure you: I've yet to damage anything this way." That was true: he'd never actually damaged anything important. A few errant scrolls in his youth, but that was to be expected.

Maria seemed to sigh in relief. "Well, that puts one thing out of the way," she said, the magically-suspended scroll checking itself with a small quill. "Next order of business: living arrangements as we travel through the southern portion of Europe."

"I believed staying at assorted inns and such would suffice for our needs, since we'll be packing light enough to not worry about being a target for thieves," Spike said, thinking back to the looter that had ambushed Meia and him back in the mountain pass. "If not, we could always camp out alongside the road, as the carriages are more than large enough to provide sleeping arrangements for the three of us."

"Yes, yes, I suppose that is true," Maria said, a small smile gracing her face. "I've always wanted to do something similar to camping, but my parents would never have allowed it, especially mother: 'affecting my tender sensibilities' and all that noble rubbish." She sounded rather off-put by the trappings of her heritage: the compelte opposite of Rarity, who insisted she was destined for some sort of royal/noble recognition. the contrast was rather stark, if not a bit unfair to both: they had been raised differently and of course would view such a lifestyle differently.

"Ah, well, you'll have plenty of opportunities to explore the "wilder side" on this journey," Spike said, looking around him. "I still can't believe how far I have yet to go."

"How far we have yet to go," Maria corrected him with a giggle, placing her hand on his as the scroll tucked itself away. "We are married, after all: where you go, I go."

"Undoubtedly," Spike agreed, feeling it was time to tell her about his contract. "Maria, do you know how royalty need heirs to continue a bloodline?" he asked.

"Of course," she said, her face developing a confused expression. "Where did this come from all of a sudden?"

"Well, I believe it was time I told you of my... other obligations," Spike said, preparing himself for the worst. "You see, back in Equestria, it was made clear to me by my sovereigns- Princesses Celestia and Luna- that I marry and bring new blood and knowledge to the land."

"Yes...?" Maria said slowly, clearly not knowing where this was going.

"I must fulfill a minimum of three marriage contracts in order to take my place alongside them as co-rulers of Equestria," the dragon said. "They specified more would be better, but three is the absolute minimum."

"... _three_ marriage contracts? A _minimum_ of _three_?" Maria asked, her face forming a frown. "You have to marry at least two other mares in order to secure your future and those of your children?"

She sounded rather angry: this wasn't good. "Yes?" Spike said, though it was more a question than a statement.

His wife was silent for a moment, before simply shrugging. "Well, I guess it proved too good to be true."

"What?" Spike asked, now the confused one.

"That I'd have you all to myself," Maria said, sighing in a manner that was not at all mad or even sad. "I suppose I'll have to live with sharing you with other mares, I guess. Frankly, from what I've heard, the gender ratio in Equestria is rather skewed: perhaps some new blood would be a good thing for your country."

Spike breathed a sigh of relief, only to have Maria's finger dig into his scaly chest.

"But you listen to me, husband," she said, a fierceness showing in her eyes. "There will be no favoritism showered on any of the mares you marry in the future, all right? The same goes for your children: you will love all of us equally, in our own ways: you got that?"

Spike gulped, the thought of favoritism having never crossed his mind. Why did females always think of the harder things in life to deal with? "Of-of course," he said: the pressure on his chest became more insistent, so much so that he had to lay down on the ground.

"Now," Maria said, her tone changing as flower petals swirled around her. "Let me remind you of just how much reward a promise can bring." Her eyelashes fluttered as she drew herself over him: they were all alone in the garden, it seemed: exactly how she must have planned it. Damn, why did she have to be so much smarter than he?

"A-are you sure nopony will discover us?" Spike said as her nimble fingers began to undo the buttons on his shirt. Whenever she was determined, she sure knew how to get things done.

"Of course not: while you were dressing, I sent a quick letter to the servants to prepare this for us, strictly telling them that after that the garden areas were off limits. Now then," she said, reaching up to undo her blouse as if she had been aching to do so all morning. "Take off your shirt: slowly, please."

Spike did as she said: she sure did know how to trap someone. The thing was, he could get used to this kind of trickery.

Slowly, Maria slid her now exposed body up and down Spike's making sure to rub her breasts against his scaly chest for good measure. It was almost like a massage: a very, _very _sensual massage. the next things to go were both of their lower clothes, followed by any undergarments they had chosen to wear. Raising herself above her husband, the unicorn noble gently lowered herself onto him, gasping at the sensation of being filled once more. Then, slowly, she began to pump herself up and down, her mind erasing all of her thoughts and plans in order to fully take in this amazing experience. Her breaths and breasts moved in time with her bouncing, the soft furry mounds a tantalizing prize that Spike's hands could not ignore.

So it was the next day that Maria bid her family farewell. Tears were exchanged, promises made, and a great many hugs were given. Spike felt a sense of déjà vu at such a spectacle, the scene reminding him a bit of his own departure from his home in Equestria. After the final goodbye, or maybe the third final goodbye, they went over to the carriages that would be ferrying them through southern Europe and into the country of Neightaly.

A mound of gold, jewels, ceremonial armor and priceless heirlooms awaited them, all neatly boxed and crated for transport. There were even aluminum frames for future family pictures. As Maria and Meia made their way to the carriages, Spike felt a sensation stir in his stomach. he had not gotten this feeling in quite some time, but even he could recognize what it meant. Letting out some fire with a small burp, he saw the green tongue of flame condense into a scroll, sealed with Twilight Sparkle's personal stamp.

Catching it and opening it with practiced ease, he slowly read through the scribbled words, thankful twilight wrote small but detailed.

"_Dear Spike, I recently received your letter and we must all ask you the same question: YOU'RE MARRIED ALREADY?"_ He winced at this: he could practically hear her shouting as she wrote this. He continued to read. "_I know it is within your royal obligation to do so, but you've been gone for little more than a month! Don't you think you may have… rushed things just a teensy bit? There are plenty of other mares out there that could easily fulfill you obligations, just later in time. Everyone here is awaiting your response and the things you said you'd send along. Sincerely, Twilight Sparkle._"

He looked down further. "_P.S. Princess Celestia informs me there will be a storm soon in Prance, so you'd best hurry if you want to have clear weather for traveling._" Good, Celestia knew the weather: of all the things mentioned in the letter, this might actually prove to be the most useful.

Spike couldn't help but sigh: Twilight, bossy as ever without even trying to be so. Maybe that's why he loved as much as he had, since she had always been there for him and now an ocean separated them. Flipping over the scroll, he breathed flame onto his finger again and began to write.

"_Dear Twilight and friends, I do believe it is within my right to decide when I am to marry or not. Maria is not just some random pony: she is a unicorn of noble birth, gentle disposition, and will surely become good friends with all of you when we get back to Equestria. With this letter, I am sending all of which I have inherited in the marriage, including property deeds, a small fortune, and many more things that I am sure you all will appreciate. To Rainbow Dash, I give armor forged in the furnaces of Roam during its time of imperialism. To Applejack, I send the seeds of the Streifling Herbst apple, a sweet/sour apple common through western Europe. Fluttershy, I give you the entirety of my journals containing all the sketches and diagrams of animals I have seen so far. To Rarity and Pinkie Pie, I leave you a vast collection of ball gowns and masquerade masks to go with them: divide them as you wish. Twilight, seeing as how you are in need of this the most, I send you a sleeping spell that calms the nerves and makes going to bed easier. That, and a spell for tree-growth acceleration. With the greatest of regards, Spike."_

Sucking in a good breath of air, Spike let loose a torrent of flame, which consumed the scroll and the aforementioned goods in a puff of smoke. Soon enough, they would be appearing in Equestria, possibly right in front of Twilight's nose: the thought of her library all of a sudden crammed with so much stuff gave him cause for a small chuckle.

"Spike! We are ready to leave," Maria called from her carriage window. The roads were wide enough that three carriages could travel abroad, but each of them had their own carriage and would travel in single file anyway, so as to not take up so much of the road.

"Coming," Spike called, taking one last look at the castle. It had been less than two weeks since he was leaving, married to a beautiful unicorn heiress.

As it was, he continued to look out as their carriages moved by themselves, until the winding road led around the side of a mountain, and the magnificent city disappeared from sight entirely. The road in and of itself was nothing special: small villages here and there, with markets selling whatever they could locally produce. Small temples and churches alike dotted the landscape, some built into the very sides of the mountains and accessible along the narrowest of pathways.

Once they passed through the mountains, the carriages came out onto valleys and hills that seemed to stretch on forever: they had entered the realm of Prance, but only just. So, as evening approached, the three set their carriages by each other and set up camp, raising small awnings off of the carriages to serve as protection from the elements. Maria seemed particularly thrilled to put these up, even though they'd be sleeping in the carriages. Well, Meia would be by herself, at any rate: Spike and Maria were to share one for the night.

The hills seemed to hum softly as they settled around the fire, wondering what the future lay for them. As such, a long, shrill note pierced the air, soft and yet chilling in nature.

"What is that?" Spike asked, looking around. "I've never heard something like that before." It sounded like some sort of demonic or other-worldy presence that came out only at night.

"The ghost of the Witch King, most likely," Maria said, almost nonchalantly. "He comes and goes as he pleases: most of the time."

"The what?" Meia asked, her head swiveling sharply to look at the unicorn.

"The Witch King," Maria repeated, as if she were explaining something to a slow pony. "These are the fields of Pelennor, where his army was defeated long ago."

"Who was the Witch King?" Spike asked, his curiosity piqued by her words. "I've never heard of him before. Books and scrolls in Equestria don't usually have anything on the histories of other countries." Meia nodded in agreement: she too wanted to hear this. Changelings usually kept to themselves and when they invaded a place, they never took time to learn the history.

"Well, as you know, the basis for the magic of a unicorn resides in their horn," Maria said, pointing at hers. "Long ago, back in the days of the Roaman Empire, a small pony was born to an unusual couple at the time: a unicorn and an earth pony. It wasn't aboo, per se, but the ponies of the time implemented a sort of de jure segregation onto mixed-couple ponies: informal segregation, that is. The couple's foal, a colt, was born without a horn, and yet… he could still do magic. Magic of what was believed to be a darker sort, the kind not accepted by society: communing with the dead, controlling shadows, that sort of stuff. He was driven out as an outcast, called a freak, a monster, and other such things. Others in his situation would have gone on, left the insults behind and made good with their talents. But not he, for his heart was black as coal and his mind as twisted as could be from both his exclusion and his own development. So he did disappear, for a while at least."

She paused. "Then he returned, with a great and terrible army under his rule. His dark magic imbibed many of them with unnatural strength and abilities, so that anyone in their way stood little chance. He conquered lands, slew princes, razed cities, torched towns, and crushed armies. He seemed unstoppable, and the worse part was that he sought not to conquer, but to destroy: only destroy. It was then that the Roamans, who were about to lose so much in this area, realized they had to send in one of the best generals and his armies."

"Who?" Spike asked. He was totally unfamiliar with the legends of such places, so he immediately wanted to know more.

"Almareconraddius Plansci, my ancestor," Maria said, her face losing much of its expression. "Tales and written accounts say it was... terrible. The battle lasted for the entire day, with my ancestor finally slaying the Witch King, but not before he had summoned a terrible storm." She pointed out towards the hills, where one in particular stood out, coal-black. "That is where the Witch King died, amidst unnatural thunder and lightning. My ancestor barely escaped with his life, as did the remains of his legions. The Witch King's own forces died with him in that deadly maelstrom."

"So, what does that have to do with now?" Meia asked, looking around.

"They say his ghost still haunts these places, a specter seeking harm on those who travel alone. They say he can drag you with him into the realm of shadow, from whence all ghosts come."

She laughed suddenly, breaking the tension. "But it is merely an old pony's tale: the ghost part, anyway. We should get some rest, as it is."

"Yes, you should," a voice said behind them. All three heads spun around to see several cloaked figures standing there, their faces hidden in shadow.

"Sweet dreams," one said, rushing them. As quick as a flash, he withdrew a club and smashed it upside Spike's head. The dragon spun away, rolling over the fire and into the dirt along the road. His mind swirling, both in pain and confusion, the drake felt something lift him up: one of the brigands.

"What about the other two?" a voice said.

"Take them with us: the Baron will want them unspoiled for his own purposes," another voice said, seemingly the one holding up Spike. There was an ill note in how he said the word _unspoiled_. "This one goes with them: they're all due to meet our lord. Get in the carriages, and tie those other two up with the magic-nullifying rope. We've got to make sure that they can't escape and that nobody saw us leave with them."

As he said those final words, Spike felt his mind slip away, and his eyes closed. He could not feel the brute holding him bind him and toss him into one of the carriages, where two muffled cries signaled that Meia and Maria were there as well. A giddyup from the brigands made the carriage lurch forward, moving farther away from the border of Spreign and deeper into the territory of Prance.


	10. A Captive Audience

Chapter Ten

A Captive Audience

Spike awoke to the feeling of his feet being dragged behind him, with his upper body being supported by two figures. He could barely open his eyes, so swollen they were, but he could at least think now with a clearer head. Where was he? What was happening? What-?

"Release him," a voice said, which promptly resulted in Spike meeting to cold stone floor beneath him. Rolling over, Spike craned his neck up to see an earth pony standing over him, his long blonde mane stuffed underneath a helm. "So who do we have here?" the stallion asked, leaning over Spike.

The dragon was unable to answer properly: all he could do was cough. The stallion wrinkled his nose at the gesture, but didn't move. "Let me tell you, then," he said, standing up straight. "I am Lord Guy de Baux of Marseille, and you dragon, are a stranger in our lands: a very wealthy stranger, by the looks of your carriages." He circled around the weakened dragon like a falcon circling its prey from high above. "I rule these lands in the name of my king, but I hold the power here. I can do what I want, with whom I want, and the king will never be the wiser. You see, he has enough trouble already uniting the barons to the north. While most of us barons to the south are loyal beyond measure, I myself am a different breed of pony."

He nudged Spike in the side with his hoof, causing the dragon to cough some more. "I answer only to myself, dragon, and I take what I see as mine. As of right now," he added, bending over once more and poking Spike in the chest. "You belong to me. Your carriages and whatever they contain, belong to me. Your two lovely mare friends who accompanied you here belong to me as well now. We will see just how far my ownership extends in due time.

Spike grunted, likely some insult, but the stallion didn't care. "Take him to the dungeons: perhaps he can be a bit chattier with his cellmates." Two sets of hands roughly picked up the dragon and dragged him off, the rooms becoming darker in Spike's eyes. Finally, after being dragged further and further down what could only be stairs, he heard a key turn. A metal door with iron bars crisscrossing it opened, and he was unceremoniously tossed inside.

Almost immediately two pairs of hands were upon him once more, but they were gentle, soft, anxious. "Maria? Meia?" the drake croaked out as the two sets of hands rolled him onto his back. "Are you... are you all right?"

"Yes, we're fine: afraid, but otherwise unharmed," Maria said, gently stroking Spike's cheek with one hand. "What about you? Where are we?"

"M-Marseille," Spike said, another cough coming forth from his lips. "The lord: he's... he's a robber baron. He... he said we belong to him now."

"Hush, hush, just lie still," Meia said, a tone of worry trembling through her voice. "You need your rest: otherwise you won't get any better."

"But... why wouldn't he tie us up? Isn't he worried about... about you two using magic to escape?"

"These walls contain magic nullifying spells, I'm afraid," Meia said, looking around the cell as she did so. "There is nothing we can do, and even if we could, you're in no condition to travel."

"Well, I never thought it would come to this," Spike said, leaning back.

"Imprisonment?" Maria asked.

"No, being injured like this," the dragon said. "Princess Luna had always told me dragons were nigh invulnerable to many forms of attack, but it seems blunt force trauma still can pack a wallop." He would have chuckled, if not for the fact that his head hurt too much. "Thankfully some of her teachings can be useful right now."

"What do you mean?" Meia asked, looking down at the dragon.

"Please remove your hands, and I'll show you," he replied. As soon as they did so, he breathed out a tongue of green flame. It coursed over his body like water cascading down rapids, until he was covered in it. To their further astonishment, he spoke through the green blaze.

"Don't worry: this is just a way us dragons accelerate the healing process. I'll be better in a few hours: you might want to get some rest."

Worried for the burning dragon before them, but exhausted from the ordeal, the two unicorns lay side by side and went to sleep as best they could on the straw in the far corner. It was far from ideal, but it was far enough from Spike so that it wouldn't catch fire.

A few hours later, Spike arose as the flames covering him extinguished themselves. Looking around, he saw the two unicorns rousing from their sleep, both looking slightly more refreshed than when he had gone under his healing process.

"Anything happen while I was out?" he asked, rising up and walking over. He pulled them both into a hug, feeling better now that they were all back together.

"No, but Maria overheard some guards awhile back talking about another new arrival," Meia said, looking out of the iron bars.

Just then, the door swung open again and a smaller pony was thrown inside, to the laughing if the guards. They shut and locked the door in a flash, leaving the three looking at the small, crumpled pony laying before them.

"Is he all right?" Maria asked, approaching what looked to be a colt. He couldn't have been more than ten years old, judging from his small size.

Spike leaned down next to the small pony and gently turned him over, checking for injuries. "Are you all right kid?" he asked.

The little colt let out a cry. "Daddy," he sobbed, clutching to Spike's body with surprising force. He wouldn't let go, even when Spike sat upright. "Where's my daddy?"

Spike didn't know what to do at the moment, so he hugged the poor colt back. "I don't know, I don't know," he replied as Maria kneeled down next to them.

"What's your name?" she asked, sitting closer to the little colt. He let go of Spike to rub his eyes: he had been crying for a while, judging from the redness around them.

"P-Pierre," he said, his voice still trembling. "I can't find my daddy. Do you know where he is?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't," Maria said as the little colt nearly fell over into her lap. He was clearly exhausted, but for some reason he had managed to stay awake. "What is you daddy's name?"

"I-I don't know," Pierre said, holding his arms against his chest as if hugging himself. "Uncle Luke will know."

"Uncle Luke? Who is he?" Spike asked, perplexed. The boy did not carry himself like a boy his age, even though he clearly acted his age.

"Well, my uncle's name is Louis, but he likes it better when I call him Luke," the small colt said, his golden mane complementing his dark blue coat nicely.

"Louis," Spike repeated, as if trying to remember the name. "What does he do for a living?"

"He usually meets with other ponies from all over in his big house," the colt said, his eyes drooping. "Most of them are nice, but some can be mean to me. they call me short, chubby, a baby. Not uncle Luke: he calls me his little prince." His eyes closed and he fell asleep soon after, the kind of sleep that few could rouse a child from.

Spike, Meia and Maria looked at one another: they had all made the connection as well. Any escape plan would have to be put on hold until this little colt was better, for this was no ordinary colt.

"This colt is..." Meia began.

"Yes, Meia," Spike said. "He is the nephew to the king of Prance: Prince Pierre."

So it was that Spike and his two companions came into the presence of a young colt who had more in store for himself than any of them could have guessed, and they were all good guessers. The next night, after receiving no word from either the guards or Lord Guy de Baux save for some bread and some water, Spike and Pierre fell asleep first, the small colt cuddling up alongside the dragon as though he were a security blanket. Which, basically, he was: he gave off enough heat to keep the little guy warm in the colder cell.

Maria and Meia sat together on a pile of straw, which Spike had managed to not only dry without torching but clumped it together so that they made decent beds. Still, they both slowly watched the rising and falling of Spike's chest as he drowsed, casting glances at little Pierre at times. For so small a colt and having been through so much, his serene state seemed to be a note of happiness in so dark and dank a place such as they were in.

Maria glanced over at Meia surreptitiously. "Meia," she said slowly.

"Hm? Yes?" she said back, tearing her eyes away from Spike.

"You can cut the act," Maria said. "I know what it is you hide: all of it."

Meia blinked. "All of what?" she asked, doing her best to feign ignorance. How could she have found out?

"You talk in your sleep, Meia," Maria said, looking her harder in the eyes. "Don't pretend I don't notice the way you look at him."

Oh: she noticed that. In her mind, Meia exhaled a breath she hadn't been holding. Her true secret remained safe. "So?" she said. "Do you have a problem when I look at your husband?"

Maria didn't say anything for a few seconds. "Actually, no: I have no problem with your feelings for him," she said, looking back at Spike. "I understand your position: he is a most handsome devil, is he not? No mare in her right mind would look at him and deny any sort of attraction."

Meia was becoming more and more confused: what was this all about?

"I know you care for him, perhaps more than you would care to admit," Maria said, looking back at the other unicorn. "I can tell by the way he acts around you that he has deep-seated feeling for you as well, though he has yet to acknowledge them."

Damn: this Maria really knew how to read a fellow pony. "So what are you saying?" Meia asked.

"Your feelings for him are long: I can tell, as Spike told me you've been with him since he left the shores of Manehattan," the noble unicorn said. "I can see it in your face when you look at him, that same look present, no doubt, on my face when I do the same."

"What would that be?" Meia asked, though she had a feeling she knew the answer.

"Love," Maria said simply. "You love him, don't you?"

Meia spluttered for a few seconds, almost choking up on her response. "I... but he... how... you... fine," she managed, sighing. "Yes, I do have feelings for him: he's saved my life twice now, possibly more if you think about it. He's always been there for me, never asking for more than I can give. I'm a burden to him, and yet he doesn't think of me like that. I just... I just don't know what to do."

"Ask him to marry you," Maria said, sending a bolt of shock running through the disguised changeling's body. Say what now?

"Marry him?" Meia asked finally. "But... but we're imprisoned! How in world would that monstrous lord even allow such a thing?"

"After we escape, Miss Morphos," Maria responded, slowly and as if she were talking to a small foal. "Then you can ask him. As for now, I think he needs to know just how you feel."

"But... but..." Meia said, but Maria cut her off with a stern glance.

"Show him tomorrow night, if nothing sudden happens. I'll have little Pierre sleep by me, but be sure to be quiet about it: as spacious as this cell is, it wouldn't do good for him to wake up to two adults 'expressing' their feelings towards one another, now would it?"

Meia was aghast, both inside and out, at just how unique this unicorn was. She did not want to hoard her husband, showed compassion for those who were conflicted, and even gave advice to those who would never ask for it. Spike had really lucked out with this one. "If... if you're sure," Meia said.

"Absolutely," Maria said, lying down on the straw bed. "You'd best get some rest: I have no idea what tomorrow may bring, but it can't be much worse than our current predicament."

Meia lay down as well, her back to Maria as the noble unicorn's breathing soon became deep and rhythmic. "She doesn't know of my plans, and yet she knows of my feelings," she muttered to herself, her eyes settling shut. "We'll see if she can make good on her promises."

Early the next morning, all four occupants of the cell were rudely awakened by the door swinging open and two guards entering. "You two: get up," they said, pointing at Maria and Pierre.

"Whatever for?" Maria asked, protectively moving to stand in front of little Pierre.

"Next cell just opened up: looks like you're getting a new place to stay," one said with a sneer. He reached out to grab her, but she swatted his hand away and stood as tall as she could.

"I am Maria Almareconraddo del Rivioso, wife of Spike the dragon: I am perfectly capable of showing myself to my new quarters," she said politely but firmly, grabbing Pierre's hand in her own. Both guards actually took a step back at the fire in her eyes before recovering their composure. Still, when she and the little colt walked out, they made sure to not stand too close to her.

Ever-so-slightly, Maria glanced back over her shoulder and gave Meia a small nod. Then the guards closed the door behind them, and their footsteps faded until the shutting of a nearby cell door could be heard. In the distance, a low rumble of thunder could be heard: the storm Twilight's letter had told about had arrived.

Meia and Spike said nothing to each other for the rest of the day: what more was there to say that had already not been said? Well, in most cases, that would be a correct assumption, but Chrysalis could not hold back Meia's feelings any longer, since they were her feelings as well.

As much as she had tried to avoid it, as hard as she had tried, she had fallen in love with that charming dragon. His manners, his physique, his objective politeness and his charming personality... they were what all mares craved in a stallion, but to her, one who had gone so long without physical company that it actually hurt to think of her own feelings, it was like an addiction. Like a moth drawn to a flame, she was drawn to this magnificent drake, and now she didn't care if she got burned.

Night approached, or so it seemed, as the guards did say it was time for dinner. After eating some bread and what seemed to be mushroom stew, the two sat in their cell, the only light filtering in from the torches outside their doors. The thunder outside continued, and even though they were far below, the pair could tell it was raining heavily outside: it seemed colder than usual in the cell. Still, whoever had made the cell had done a fine job sealing it up: no water dripped through from above.

"Spike," Meia said, not knowing if he was even awake. Another rumble of thunder, almost on top of the castle, tore through the sky, its effect humbled by the thick stone.

"Yes?" he responded, settling that debate. "What is it, Meia?"

"I... I talked to Maria before," she said, thinking back. "Last night, when you and little Pierre were asleep, she told me... things."

"Things?" Spike asked, sounding interested. "What kind of things?"

"Oh to Tartarus with it," Meia said, her nerves steeled more so than they had been for the invasion of Canterlot. Crossing the room, the sat down on Spike's lap: before he could protest or say anything, she captured his lips in a deep, passion-filled kiss. For a second he lay there, shocked at her actions. Then, ever-so slowly, he began to kiss her back.

She drew back for air, letting him speak for what felt like the first time in hours. "You... what... huh?" Spike asked, terribly conflicted over the emotions toiling in his mind.

"I love you, Spike," Meia said, the truth soaking every word she uttered. "I love you: I just couldn't see it before. Maria could even see it, and it was she who suggested I do this."

"Maria? But why?" Spike asked, even Meia began to grind herself against him. The thunder outside rumbled more, and if they had had a window, they would have seen lightning flashing across the sky like bolts from an angry god.

"Because she cares for others besides herself, Spike," Meia said, kissing him again. "She gave me her blessing to ask for your hand in marriage."

All right, now Spike went from confused to downright stunned. "But... but," he said, his words becoming less and less coherent. "But...now? It... uh." His words failed him as Meia's face drew close to his once more. He had never noticed before just how beautiful she was.

"If we ever get out of this, the first thing you're going to do is marry me, Spike," Meia said, slowly undoing her clothes on top of the dragon. "But first things first: right now, I want you to love me. Love me like I love you, you handsome drake."

Spike was silent for a moment as his mind caught up with him, but then he slowly began to undo his own clothes. Meia smiled in accomplishment as the two of them shed their clothes at an increasing pace, until they were both completely naked in the dungeon cell.

"Well, it seems there is more to you than meets the eye, Spike," Meia said, looking down at his now-throbbing erection. "We'd best make this quick and quiet, or else the guards might hear us."

Spike nodded, though he was surprised when Meia pushed him down onto his backside so that he was sitting up with his back to the wall. "Meia, what-,"

"Shh," she said, kissing him to quiet him up. "Just sit there and love me, all right?"

"Okay," Spike said, spreading his legs so she could sit comfortably on him. Well, 'sit' was more of a loose definition.

Spreading her own legs and revealing her glistening mare-hood to Spike's view, Meia slowly sat down until the tip of Spike's throbbing shaft nuzzled the very edge of her nether region. She let out a very soft whinny at the contact, which had also made the fur on her pelt stand on end slightly. Slowly, ever so slowly, she lowered herself onto the throbbing shaft, her body clenching involuntarily at so large an invader. She made it about half-way before she stopped, the feeling of being full so overwhelming she could have sworn she started hallucinating.

Spike's eyes seemed to glow in the darkness with a green flame, his darkened features giving him the appearance of a demonic lover. But a lover nonetheless, for his hands reached up to Meia's sides and clasped her around the slim waist, holding her in position. Slowly, he pushed her down more onto him, capturing her lips in time to arrest a squeal of pain and pleasure. She rocked her hips from side to side, churning the massive piece of meat inside her while her inner walls clenched and unclenched. Then the mighty dragon beneath her began to raise her off of him, only to lower her back down faster than before.

Just then, she orgasmed; whether from the fact that she had never taken something like inside her or she had gone so damn long without a good rut, she hadn't a clue. Needless to say, she felt another one hit as soon as he had pulled her up and slammed her back down onto him. And they just kept coming, one right after the other: a stream of orgasms the likes of which even the most debauched author could only dream about. The thunder outside cascaded in time with her body's shocks, as if both were tied to the lightning flashing through the heavens.

Spike quietly grunted as he bounced the beautiful unicorn in his lap, his tongue twisting out to lap at her breasts and nipples like a very horny snake. She moaned more and more, and yet somehow managed to keep her volume lower than many would in her situation.

Then suddenly, she clamped down on him harder than before, just as he hit his peak. With a grunt he released his seed into her, his shaft sliding with the sudden extra lubrication until he had bottomed out in her. Still he pumped as she squeezed harder, the force almost making him wince.

In Meia's mind, she felt plans and years of work shatter within an instant: all she could do was ride this last, powerful orgasm as she felt the mighty shaft beneath her pump her full of seed. Her belly began to distend slightly from the amount, but none spilled out, even as the flow soon came to a stop. She was exhausted, so tired that she couldn't rise. She simply fell over onto Spike's chest, her breathing heavy as could be. Her heart beat in time with his: erratic and fast.

"I... love you, Spike," she managed to croak as the post-orgasmic bliss overtook her.

"I love you too, Meia," Spike whispered, his voice slightly hoarse after their bout. Feeling her breathing slow eventually, his eyes closed as well, his warm shaft still buried inside the beautiful mare.

It was like this when they awoke early the next morning, though judging from the lack of sounds outside, nobody else had yet woken up.

"Oh, my," Meia said groggily as she felt something stir inside her. She looked down to see Spike's eye opening too. "Seem's like someone woke up before either of us."

"Mmm, he's got a mind of his own," Spike said sleepily, though anyone could tell he was rapidly waking up.

"Again?" Meia asked, forlornly getting up off of him as his shaft slid out with a pop.

"Yes," he said, rising to his feet. He looked over at Meia, who had placed her hands against the wall and had spread her legs. Her glistening marehood shone in the dull light of the torches, her toned rear showing curves that would bring a lesser stallion to his knees.

"Well?" she said, looking over her shoulder with a seductive look that sent half of Spike's blood supply into his nether regions. "Are you just going to stand there, or are you-,"

Her words were cut off by Spike crossing the distance in the blink of an eye and stuffing himself into her. She would have gasped, had his hand not covered her mouth. Letting it drop to her sides, he lay his back over hers and whispered into her ear.

"We'll still need to be quiet." Before she could respond, he withdrew to almost the tip, and then slammed back into her, earning a hushed gasp. Oh, by the stars above, he was going deeper than the night before!

"Ohh," she moaned as he withdrew again and slammed into her, causing her breasts to bounce. One of Spike's hands placed itself next to hers on the wall, while the other snaked around and latched onto one of her breasts, squeezing it and tweaking the nipple. She moaned more and more as he thrust into her, her arms shaking already.

Soon enough, whether from the early- morning sleepiness or sudden exhaustion, she let her arms drop, only to be caught by Spike before she could slam into the wall. Never missing a beat, he lay her face-down on the straw and began to vigorously shove himself into her, raising himself up slightly so as to change the angle from which he entered.

Meia's mind was going through emotions she had never known existed. She arched her lower body to give him better access, her back forming a semi-circle as she raised her rear. With each thrust her breasts plowed into the hay, deforming it underneath her body. Spike grabbed he firm ass and spread her slightly, only to ram in harder than before. The pounding increased in speed until he was a blur behind her, his shaft pistoning in and out of her like there was no tomorrow.

Oh, by the sun and moon above, this was exquisite. Her body was on fire, her throat ready to unleash moan after moan from Spike's relentless pounding. He was like an animal in this state: conscious thought giving way to a primal side that both scared and thrilled her to no end. Just the thought of his ridged shaft entering her had sent chills through her body: the actual thing was infinitely better.

Just like that, she came, biting down into the straw to not scream out. Her inner walls clenched hard, so much so that Spike soon came too, erupting more of his seed into her womb. Beneath her, Meia could feel her belly swell more than it had the night before, but thankfully her changeling physiology allowed for such expansion. Still, when Spike lay on top of her and pulled out with a wet pop, she felt utterly full.

"That was..." she began unable to finish as Spike rolled off to her side and lay down next to her.

"Yeah," he said, capturing her lips in a kiss. "Yeah, it was."

They dressed quickly when they heard some guards moving outside the door.


	11. Rage and Reward

Chapter Eleven

Rage and Reward

The door to the cell flew open, as if those moving it had a very simple purpose at the forefront of their minds. The guards who entered brought with them a special guest: Pierre. They threw him into the straw as one moved forward and grabbed Meia. Spike stepped forward to defend her, but was met with a gauntlet-covered hand smacking him to the floor. He looked up in time to see the boot kick him in the ribs, not breaking anything, but sending him flat onto his back.

"Spike!" Meia shouted as another pony was pushed past the door in front of her. She tried to struggle, but the brute holding her was too strong and pushed her out like she was a mere child. She turned upon colliding with the other mare, who was looking into the cell. The olive-pelt unicorn cried as she saw her husband be kicked by the guard again.

"Spike!" Maria cried in anguish as she vanished from sight, along with Meia. Their shouts slowly faded through the passage of time as Spike lay there, coughing from the impacts upon his rib-cage. The guard standing over him kicked once more for good measure, spitting on him with contempt. With an unbearable finality, the stallion walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Spike slowly rose, wincing as he did so. While the hoof of a pony never could penetrate a dragon's hide, it could still damage the flesh underneath. And boy, did he hurt: it was as though he had fallen off out of a tree and had landed on a pointed rock. Coughing some more, he made his way to the door, frantically peering out to look for the two mares. By now, their scream had faded away: they were likely far off inside the castle, too far for him to hear.

Too far for him to protect.

"Maria! Meia!" Spike shouted weakly, pounding against the door in a futile effort to bring them back. Well, tried to pound against it: he was clutching his bruised side with one hand as he hit his fist against the iron door. The guards outside merely laughed at his struggles, their guffaws the kind one can only express when one enjoys seeing the distress of others. "Where have you taken them?" the dragon shouted a bit louder, only to receive a few choice cusses in his general direction.

At wits end, he turned to Pierre, who had risen to his hooves and was standing still, looking at Spike as though he were afraid for the poor dragon. "Pierre, do you know where they're being taken?" he asked, trying to calm himself down. The poor little prince was likely just as scared as he was: he could tell Maria and the colt had formed a quick friendship in the short time they spent together, judging from his expression at her immediate and abrupt departure.

"The big room, I think," the little pony said, wringing his little hands together and stomping one of his hooves. "Big mean guard said something about prizes for mean Mr. Baux. What does that mean, Spike? Where are they?" His eyes welled with moisture: "Is he gonna hurt them?"

Spike's eyes went wide at Pierre's words: this little colt's train of thought had intersected with his own at the same time. He remembered back to what the baron had said to him: "_Your two lovely mare friends who accompanied you here belong to me as well now. We will see just how far my ownership extends in due time._" Apparently a few days had been due time enough for that vicious baron to make up his mind, and it was a truly horrid decision.

"How far his ownership..." Spike muttered, feeling something erupt in the deepest recesses of his belly. He bent over in sudden pain, letting out an anguished shout. This was new: the little pony approached him, only to barely miss Spike's tail from swatting him in the chest. "Pierre, get back: I... I don't know what's happening," he wheezed, causing the little pony to run to the corner and huddle down on the floor in fright. He had never experienced something like this before, save for when his greed has transformed him into a monster back in Ponyville. But this was different, as different as sea and sky or sun and moon.

"_Ownership... lovely... belong to... prizes..._" Spike wheezed, doubling over as he felt his anger skyrocket beyond anything he had ever experienced. It was maddening, it was painful, but for some reason or another, it felt..._liberating_. It was as if every little injustice, every single injury he had ever sustained had returned in full force, releasing... _something_ within him.

He fell onto his side, clutching his body as the pain continued to shoot through him, originating in his stomach and working its way up his spine and into his brain. It was as though the fire always burning within him was raging out of control, threatening to burst forth like a volcano. His eyes clenched shu as he felt the first pop of his bones beneath his flesh. His grunts and groans grew more anguished as time went on, with little Pierre still huddled in the corner. His little eyes shut to block out what he was seeing: maybe if he didn't see Spike, then Spike couldn't see him.

The guards outside were joking about his lamenting noises. "Probably doesn't know how the Baron likes to _claim_his prizes," one said, earning a few chuckles from the others. "Sucks to be him: if they live, they'll never be able to look him in the eyes again."

"Yeah," said one, walking up to the door. "You hear that, dragon? Your lady friends will be good sport for our lord for the coming days. Maybe after he's grown bored of them, he'll let all of us have a go, _oui_?" More chuckles and even a wolf-whistle from the other guards: they truly were despicable ponies, to say the least.

The grunts and groans curiously stopped at that: instead, in their place, a deep growl emerged from the dark cell. To them, in their smugness, it hardly sounded threatening: as if this pitiful dragon could do _anything_ to sound intimidating. They laughed some more, with the one standing by the cell peering in to taunt the poor fellow some more. He really got a kick out of suffering of others, even more so than the other guards, so he relished the opportunity to taunt the prisoner some more.

"Yeah, we'll show them a good time, _prisonnier_: maybe even in front of-," he never finished his words as a large fist tore through the metal door and grabbed him by the armor. With a yelp he was dragged inside, where his screams ended with a sharp crack, as if stone had split somewhere in the cell.

The others looked on in horror as... something emerged from the cell. They barely had time to scream.

Menahwhile, up in the throne room of the castle, Maria and Meia sat huddled next to one another. They were looking up at Lord Baux, who had wasted no time in tying them up once again with magic-nullifying rope. He was a crafty one, but as much as he wished it, his intimidation factor was lower than it could have been had no guards been present.

"Well, well, what to do first?" the lord mused as he walked around the two beauties. "Shall I have you flogged? That is always a personal favorite of my guards: to see such ripe young bodies brought low by simple physical punishment."

He smiled. "Or should I give you to the guards? They always run through the whores of the nearby villages so quickly, so maybe some young, fresh meat is what they justly deserve."

He stopped in front of them, his eyes twinkling maliciously. However, I think not. I shall have you myself, seeing as your dragon friend cannot hope to stop me." The way he looked at them sent shivers up their spines, as if he were undressing them with his very eyes.

"But stop you he will," Maria said, causing the baron to step up uncomfortably close to her. "He will save us, and you'll pay for your crimes."

"Is that so?" the baron said, leaning down and roughly grabbing Maria's jaw, forcing her to look into his eyes. "And what makes you think that? He is weak, pitiful: he barely had the strength to survive a blow to the head from a simple club. What chance does he have against my guards, who have armor and steel?"

A loud boom erupted from the lower depths of the castle, causing everyone to jump. Maria merely smirked, as did Meia, who took joy in seeing the confusion on the baron's face. "Told you," Maria said.

The baron glared at her before slapping her across the cheek, leaving several red welts where his fingernails had cut her. She choked back a cry, but only just.

"Be silent, wench, before I have you flogged and then ravaged," the lord snarled, all traces of calm gone. He looked up to the door, and then to the others standing around him. "Kill him," he said to his guards, looking fiercely determined. "I want his head mounted on a pike for these two to see, right before I claim their bodies as mine."

Another boom erupted from the lower halls, much closer this time. It sounded as though a battering ram had smashed its way through a door, only to ram through another. Another boom, closer than before, was soon followed by more.

The guards in the room rushed in front of the lord and the two captives, their armor glinting as they readied their weapons. A few gulped nervously: this was not what they had in mind for guard duty. Another boom, the closest yet, sounded in the deep halls of the castle.

The guards tensed, sensing this door was the last between whatever was on the other side. Then, all of a sudden...

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The guards raised quizzical eyebrows to the baron, who looked as confused as they had. "Go... check it out," he said. After a bit of arguing and shoving, one of the guards tentatively approached the great wooden door closing off the room from the rest of the castle. Tip-hoofing, he leaned up against the door and placed his ear to it.

"I... I don't hear anything," he said. "Nothing at all." The baron breathed an audible side of relief, turning to the two unicorns with mirth gracing his features.

"See? What did I tell you? He's-,"

Whatever the baron was gloating about died in his throat the moment two large and scaly fists erupted through the wooden door, sending a cascade of splinters everywhere. With a yelp, the hands grabbed the guard and pulled him against the door, until a hole formed where he had been. A yell that rapidly faded meant whatever had grabbed him had likely thrown him out of a nearby window.

"What the!" Baron Guy de Baux began to shout, but was once again cut off by a veritable explosion of splinters as the door fragmented in front of them. Dust and debris flew everywhere as a great roar filled the room, the primordial kind of anger only a predator could feel if his family was threatened.

In horror, the guards watched a figure enter through the place where the doors had once stood. It towered over them, easily nine feet high if it was an inch. The bright purple scales had become a deep violet, almost black, and the bright green spines had become razor sharp-looking, taking a hue of a green darker than the purest emerald. The tail was monstrous-looking, curling and uncurling like a massive, sinuous python intent on strangling anything it saw. The feet were large, clawed, and digging into the stone with seemingly no effort at all, with the legs straining against the fabric of the pants like they were three sizes too small.

Every damn muscle seemed to bulge with power, or at least the ones they could see. Clothes that had been slightly loose on the prisoner now hung ragged in many parts, with the shirt torn asunder across the chest. Oh my, what chest it was, with muscles defined as if sculpted from the purest marble and looking ridiculously threatening. The arms swelled with knots of muscle that looked harder than cast iron, and every little movement seemed to reverberate with unknown power. Hands, rather delicate before, were large and strong, with fingers that looked like they could crush bone should they so choose. The claws were only slightly longer, but what had been similar to fingernails were now sharpened to a piont: the width made them look like the blades of many small daggers.

But the face: the face was the true testament to just how fierce a dragon could become if the ones he loved became threatened. The mouth, elongated like that of a wolf, snarled, with the blood-red tongue slithering over rows of dagger-like teeth. The spines along the head had elongated into a crest, almost horn-like in appearance. The eyes, though: the eyes were the window to the soul, and this soul was consumed by the fire within. These eyes seemed to glow, filled with a rage that no mere pony could hope to understand: it was the rage of a husband, of a mate, of an alpha male dragon whos line was threatened by this insidious character.

Spike was indeed very, _very _angry, and the one who he was most angry at felt as though he had just wet his pants, along with the rest of his guards.

"K-Kill him!" the lord shouted, waving his troops on even as his voice stuttered at the monster before them. The guards charged, weapons raised.

The first one was met with a solid punch to the solar plexus, the steel armor across his body shattering like glass as he was tossed head over hoof past Lord Guy de Baux. The baron turned in time to see the guard crash into the wooden thrown, causing it to explode in a shower of splinters: all of this in the blink of an eye. The guard did not rise: he was content to lie there and wheeze.

Guy turned to see another of his guards effortlessly tossed aside like a leaf blown in a fall windstorm, crashing headlong through a window and soaring out through the shards of glass. Another guard swatted at the behemoth with his sword, only to have it crack down the middle upon contacting the dragon's side. The next futile swing caused it to shatter like glass, the shards falling to the stone floor with tinkling noises.

Spike roared in anger as he grabbed the stallion by the leg. Lifting the squealing pony, he swung him like a club, sending three more guards tumbling to the sides of the room. One fell on a bench, crushing it beneath his weight as he fell: none of them got back up. Well, one did, but Spike threw the clobbered pony at him, knocking him into the wall: both fell, out cold.

The dragon turned to the few remaining guards and roared, just as a small figure entered the room from beyond the smashed doors, carrying a small glinting dagger.

"Pierre!" Maria said as the little colt ran to their sides, which Guy had abandoned to hide behind a pillar. "What happened to Spike? What has gotten into him?"

"I don't know," the little colt said as he cut through the ropes as fast as he could. "He got really angry and hurt those mean guards, then told me to stay put."

"He talked to you?" Meia asked, her eyebrows nearly disappearing into her mane in disbelief. "But... how? He's so... brutish and," her last words came out as a whisper that only Maria could hear: "_masculine._"

"Like we are talking," Pierre said. "He just sounds funny: really deep and stuff."

Just as the little colt began to cut through the last part of the magic-cancelling rope, a hoof swung out of nowhere and kicked him hard in the side. With a yelp the little colt fell over, sliding across the ground: the dagger slid far out of their grasps.

"It seems I should have killed all of you when I had the chance," Guy de Baux said, a fire in his eyes as he approached the colt with his sword drawn. "I may not live to see a tomorrow, but I know I will deprive that bastard king of the thing most precious to him. I was going to find a way to be king, someday, but that is nothing now. It seems I shall have to settle for you, your highness." He raised the sword for a fatal blow, his features twisted into a mask of hatred and devilish glee.

"Pierre, no!" Maria shouted, struggling through the last of her bonds, but not rising quick enough to do anything.

"Good night, sweet prince," the insane baron cackled, plunging his sword down. It never touched the little colt: instead, it was heading away from him, as was the rest of... himself?

The baron blinked in confusion, only to realize something had grabbed him by the throat and was hoisting him into the air. He turned, terrified, to see Spike holding him in one hand, as effortlessly as one might hold a small bird. He gave the baron a slight shake, as if trying to see if he'd do anything.

"No!" the baron shouted, thrusting his sword at the dragon's face. Merely letting it glance off his scales, Spike turned his head and in a flash bit through the metal, all the way down to the hilt. The lord looked at his handle in horror as Spike noisily chewed and swallowed the sword pieces as if they were candy. He let out a growl as his grip began to tighten on the lord, who saw his guards lying everywhere: not a single was standing.

"Please, please don't kill me!" the Prench lord begged, his voice strained as the grip around his throat tightened.

"And why shouldn't I?" Spike spoke for the first time, his deep, baritone voice filled with malice so frightening it sent chills down everyone's spines.

"Because," Pierre said, rising to the floor as Maria and Meia, finally free of their bonds, rushed to his side. "Because he's bad and mean, but killing him won't do anything."

Spike paused and looked at the small prince, his features softening slightly. "Then what would you have me do, your highness?"

"Give him to uncle Luke: tell him what this meanie has done," the little colt said, holding the side where he had been kicked as Maria and Meia hugged him.

The baron's eyes widened at the colt's words. "No, NO! Kill me now, I beg of you! If you have any mercy in your body, kill me-," he was cut off by Spike tightening his grip once more, his words turning into a choking noise. The stallion's face turned a nasty shade of purple as he spluttered and spit, breathing in deeply as Spike loosened his grip once more.

"You heard the prince," Spike said, his flexible tail retrieving a banner from the pillar. He turned to Meia and Maria.

"Do you two think you can tie him up with this? Your magic should be back by now."

Both of their horns gave small sparks: "Yes, yes we can," the said in unison, turning to face the baron with evil gleams in their eyes. "This should be fun." Before they could, however, both mares socked the cowardly baron right in the royal jewels. Well, not so royal any more, at least.

It was only the next day that truly royal banners appeared outside of the castle, with horns heralding the arrival of Prance's monarch: King Louis. Spike, Meia and Maria followed little Pierre outside, all having been cleaned up and suitably dressed for the occasion.

The king rode in on a rather plain-looking but very, very strong carriage, his mane swishing this way and that. It looked rather spartan, but that was to be expected of a military carriage: it was likely full of supplies, armor and weapons. Jumping down, he smiled as little Pierre ran up to him, throwing his arms around the monarch's waist.

"Uncle Luke!" he cried, hugging him as the King did the same. The stallion had a genuine smile on his face, and the hug was far from royal: it was that between an uncle and his favorite nephew.

"My little prince, are you all right?" the king asked, his tone soft as he held his nephew. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, uncle: I'm fine. Thanks to Spike and his friends," the little colt said, turning back and pointing at the three. They bowed as the king approached with little Pierre in tow.

"I cannot than you enough for exposing Guy de Baux and saving my nephew," the king said, looking over as three guards escorted a bound and gagged Guy to a waiting prison carriage, where the rest of his guards awaited him. None were dead, but a few were very injured from Spike's retribution and were currently under watch by doctors and guards. "I never knew he was such a wolf in pony's clothing."

"He fooled many ponies, sire," Spike said, feeling happy now that everyone was better and he had shrunk back down to his normal size. "It is a good thing to see him punished. To think of all the pain he has caused and could have if he had not been stopped... I shudder to think of it."

"Yes, well, be thankful none of you will see what is in store for him," King Louis said as Pierre pulled at his cloak. Leaning down, the little prince whispered something into his ear.

With a growing smile on his face, the king stood up and approached Spike, drawing his sword. "Kneel, please, my good dragon," he said. "This is not near what I would want to do, but it the least I can do for your deeds." Spike looked at Maria and Meia, who both nodded for him to do so. So he knelt, his head bowing before the king.

Placing the blade on Spike's shoulder, King Louis spoke. "For the chivalric deeds you have demonstrated, the bravery you have so heroically exemplified before those present, and as gratitude for aiding the realm of Prance, I, King Loius, hereby knight thee. Rise, Sir Spike, and embrace me."

Spike rose and tentatively approached the king for a formal embrace, only for the stallion to pull him into a ferocious hug. "Thank you," he whispered into the dragon's ear. "Thank you for saving my nephew, for he is my heir." He pulled away, all appearance of formality returning once more, as if he had not just revealed a great secret. "Is there anything we can aid you with? Just name it and it shall be yours."

"Well," Spike said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Meia, Maria and I are sort of on a journey as put forth by my own sovereigns. We were on our way out of Spreign when the baron's thugs kidnapped us, so we are a bit behind schedule. If you could supply us with provisions and a bit of gold, it would help us immensely."

"But of course!" the king said, turning away. Before he could, though, Spike continued.

"Also, sir king, if it would not be too much of a bother," Spike said, walking back and holding Meia's hand in his own. "Could you wed us? Personally? It is something of a promise I made to her while we were imprisoned, and, well, we didn't want it to be large or spectacular, but still carry the same authority with it." Meia's eyes sparkled at this, with a sweet smile gracing her lips: Spike sure did know how to make a mare feel special.

The king grinned once more. "I don't see why not." Sheathing his sword, he stepped forward and clasped the hands of Meia and Spike together in front of him. "As the ruler of a sovereign nation and lord of these lands, I, King Louis, hereby deem thee husband and wife: may the both of you share a long and happy life together." Very quick and straight to the point, though it carried with it all the formal agreements the wedding of Spike and Maria had.

They bowed before the king, who with little Pierre in tow, went back to his own lines. Little Pierre waved as he entered the carriage with the king, with the trio waving back. Soon enough, the carriage and the king's entourage left them in the newly-stocked castle, filled with guards and the king's own cousin serving as the new lord.

So it was that the next day our three travelers left the city of Marseille, laden with golden coins and the same three carriages with which they had so unfortunately arrived in. The king had also made the point to send with them as much of the former baron's legitimately-obtained treasures and possessions, which Spike promptly transported to Equestria with a simple note saying: "from Prance: divide as you wish". The ill-gotten gains were distributed amongst the citizens, who had lived in terror for too long and were now free from that tyranny. Soon enough, the castle the three travelers had come to greatly dread disappeared from sight as they headed across the plains and began to climb higher and higher, until at last they entered the southern mountainous region of Germareny, exactly one week after they had left the mountains of Spreign.

It was the beginning of a new phase in the journey for them, and the best part was they were doing so together, as husband and wives.


	12. Sounds of Music and Future

Chapter Twelve

Sounds of Music and Future

Truly, the country of southern Germareny was a sight to behold. Numerous rivers running out of the steep mountain passes from whence they originated: rolling hills and forests stretching on as far as the eye could see. Truly, it could be said that this portion of the country, sparsely populated when compared to the more northerly provinces, was a world unto itself. It was to these lands that Spike, Meia and Maria came, their hearts filled with gladness after having been cooped up by that dastardly baron for what felt like ages.

Stopping in the middle of a large meadow high up in the hills, without nary a town or farmhouse in sight, the trio set up camp with their carriages as the sun shone high in the sky above. The ground was firm but had a soft texture to it, so unique that the Spreignish noble-mare couldn't help but lay down in it.

"Ah, to roll in grass once more," Maria said, doing so after she had changed into more suitable outdoor-style clothes. Spike and Meia agreed, each having changed into similar clothes in their respective carriages. Spike lay back, enjoying the feel of the good earth beneath him as he looked up into the sky. Clouds billowed and buffeted high above them, white and puffy and full of innocence. His second wife lay out a large blanket, settling down on it as if lost in thought.

"Spike," Meia said as Maria rolled up to them, grass stuck in her mane. "May I ask you something?"

"Certainly, my dear," the dragon replied, turning his head to face her. "What is it?"

Maria crawled onto the blanket, shaking some of the grass out of her hair as Meia looked at her husband. Husband: that was one word she'd never thought she'd experience with actual happiness associate with it. "Back in that... horrid castle, you saved us. What I want to know is not why you changed, but... how? How did you become that... beast?" Maria's smile faltered at these words: she too remembered just how bad it had been in those cells, even though they had not been there long.

Spike sighed and closed his eye for a moment, as if recalling a painful memory. "It... was unlike anything I've felt before, Meia. I could feel my body shift, changing as my emotions released something within me. I felt anger I have never felt before, the kind I'm not sure how to describe."

"Do try," Maria said, sitting up. "I too wish to know how you did what you did."

"It was like... like every injustice done to me, over my entire life, came back to me in an instant. It didn't matter the severity: it just all... coalesced into one seething mass. I had never been so angry, so much so that I couldn't even see half of the time when I started to... change."

"I can hardly blame you for your reaction, dear," Maria said. "Getting assaulted by those brutish guards could have set anyone off."

Spike was silent for a moment. "No, Maria," he said. "It wasn't that."

"It wasn't?" his wife asked, her voice sounding perplexed. "But... what could it be then?"

Spike looked at his two wives, both looking beautiful in the slight breeze that swept over the hills. "It was you: both of you," he said. "The thought of you, being... treated the way the guards insinuated, the thought of losing you to madness and grief for the things you surely would have gone through... It drove me mad. I... couldn't bear the thought of losing either one of you."

Both mares gasped softly at his admonition. It hadn't been the pain or the rage that transformed him: it had been something far more personal. It had been his love for them: his love turned him into the beast he needed to be to save them from a fate as horrid as the one in store for them. "Oh Spike," Maria said, crawling over to her husband's side as Meia did the same, her eyes shimmering in the sunlight.

"I love you: both of you, so very much," Spike said, his voice threatening to crack from his rising emotions. "I know we've only known each other for a short time, but I... I feel like I've met parts of my soul that have been missing from my life. I just..."

His words were silenced by Meia's and Maria's lips coming into contact with both of his cheeks. "Shh, Spike," Meia said softly as they both pecked against the corners of his mouth. "Forget all those terrible thoughts and what happened back there. Focus on the here, and now, our dear husband."

"You have two mares who love you very dearly," Maria said, nuzzling against him as she continued to kiss here and there. "You showed your love for us back there: let us show our love for you."

Almost in unison, each mare had a hand travel up to Spike's shirt and worked together to unbutton it, all the while continuing to kiss and nuzzle him. Spike smiled, a deep loving smile that only a truly contented soul could manage. His earlier worries and the stress that had built up in his explanation soon faded away into the deep recesses of his mind.

Soon enough the shirt was hanging open, exposing Spike's chiseled abs and pectorals to the outside air. True, they were not nearly as large as when he had been in "rampage mode", but it was still nothing to scoff at. The two mares nuzzled against the hard muscles, the overlying scales giving it a rather smooth texture. It exuded strength, masculinity, security: the very things many mares sought after in their prospective stallions, and these two were no different.

Spike made to sit up, but two small forces of magic gently pushed him back down. "We want to try something new, Spike," Maria said as her magic began to undo his trousers.

"Something we've never done before," Meia said as her own magic slipped the shirt off of him entirely, leaving his torso bare. He could feel his second tail rising to the occasion, but as to their plan, he remained completely clueless.

A quick yank of magic had his trousers shoot off into the grass, and soon enough his boxer-like underwear followed suit. Rising quickly, his shaft was soon pointing towards the sky, trembling as Spike shivered slightly from his wives' boldness.

At least until they had reached his massive member with their faces. Then they seemed to lose confidence, since they were not sure as what to do. Did they go horizontal or vertical?

"Hmm," Maria muttered, glancing over at Meia, who had a hungry look in her that Maria knew she shared. "Shall we lick it?" she whispered.

Meia didn't respond: well, she did, but her response was to stick out her tongue and give Spike's shaft an experimental lick. The dragon ever-so-slightly thrust his hips forward at this, a small moan showing their efforts were producing wonderful feelings in him. Maria followed suit, giving it a lick as well. Soon enough, they were licking in turn, their tongues lapping at the piece of dragon meat like it was a piece of sweet candy.

Spikes mind was going absolutely bonkers from the pleasure. I mean, sex was absolutely fantastic and all, but this felt so different, so alien, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed.

Maria took the next step and lowered her snout a bit more, her hand reaching up and cradling Spike's large scrotum. It too was armored with scales, but they were far smaller in size, meaning the entirety of the texture was smooth and even appeared to be able to wrinkle. His pair of dragon balls seemed large in her hand, so when she lapped her tongue across those as well, she felt them twitch hard against her grip. They were even hot: the temperature higher than her own.

Spike hummed at the double assault, his throaty vibrations sounding almost like those of a... violin? Yes, yes: a vocalizing dragon could replicate the sounds of a romantic instrument. He could feel their tongues lapping and slurping against him, worshiping him as though he were a Pharaoh of Ancient Neigypt.

Meia was done with just licking: she soon moved onto swirling the crown of his dick with her tongue, lapping the undersides of his scaly frenulum occasionally. Soon enough, as Maria reemerged from lapping at Spike's balls and began to lick the shaft again, Meia's mouth opened and she took the tip of the dragon's pole into her awaiting cavern. She suckled on the end of it as though it were similar to the breast she herself had feed from as a little foal.

Spike's eyes shot open as his fingers dug themselves into the dirt: well, that certainly was something new. He had never felt something like this before, and if he hadn't been controlling himself to the best of his ability, he might have shot off right there. He continued to vocalize through his throat, the tone building louder and louder.

Maria and Meia looked up in surprise at the beautiful notes emanating from their husband's throat, but soon went back to their tasks at hand. Meia slurped around the pulsating shaft, going a bit deeper every time she moved her head. Of course, she couldn't fit the whole thing in her mouth: he became too wide nearer the base and was far too long to allow for such a feat. Still, she was proud of herself for making it to the half-way point at least.

She glanced to her side to see Maria looking on, her tongue frozen in mid-air as she drooled all over Spike's scrotum. Reluctantly, Meia withdrew Spike's cock from her mouth, sucking on it the whole way until it emerged with a popping noise. She switched places with the glassy-eyed Maria, who was now experimentally lapping the crown while Meia herself paid attention to Spike's balls.

Spike's vocalization reached a higher note yet, loud enough that any passerby, though there were none, could have heard it being carried aloft on the breeze. It sounded rather harmonious, like a piece of music played by a small orchestra.

Maria's ministrations soon became more passionate, as she began to shove as much of the cock as far as she could into her mouth, sucking on it as hard as she could. Whether she had grown jealous of Meia and was trying to out-do her or had become super horny, nobody knew. Either way her intense sucking, combined with Meia's ministrations, had pushed Spike over the edge: he was about to explode.

"Maria, Meia," he wheezed, looking down at both of them. "I'm... I'm about to..."

Maria gave an extra-hard sucking motion as she withdrew, pushing Spike over that final precipice. She and Meia looked up as Spike's member overflowed with semen, not so much squirting out as gushing like a garden hose. Both had their mouths open in surprise and ecstasy as the goo hit them in the face, with some of it landing in their mouths. Okay, a lot of it went in there, and for some reason unbeknownst to even themselves, they swallowed the baby batter.

To their surprise, it tasted rather... peculiar. "Strawberries?" Meia said as she licked the one side of Spike's cum-covered cock. Maria looked at her in surprise.

"Tastes like chocolate to me," she said, licking her lips and then descending on the top of the cock once more, sucking out the semen on top like milk from a bottle: chocolate milk, at any rate.

"Maybe I has something to do with dragon pheromones," Meia whispered as they cleaned up the last of the semen.

"Yeah: wait, why are we whispering?" Maria asked.

"Look," Meia said simply, causing the other unicorn to look up at Spike. He had fallen asleep, the tender ministrations from his wives proving much more than he could handle. Of course he could plow them all night if he had too, but this dragon sure hadn't developed the stamina to keep up with some good oral administrations, even if they were the first any of them had received or given. Spike's tongue lashing of Maria's marehood on their wedding night had been _his_ only performance, after all.

His wives didn't mind one bit: dressing him again, they lay down beside him and fell asleep, both feeling a bit exhausted themselves.

It was two hours later that Spike awoke, feeling very refreshed. He looked down on either side of him to see his wives sleeping peacefully: he chose not to disturb them. Getting up slowly, he looked out over the hills to see the sun lower in the sky then when he had fallen asleep. Looking around and enjoying the scenery, he felt a flutter in his stomach. Opening his mouth, a small green flame shot out, transforming into a scroll.

"Twilight, I'm telling you, this had better not-," he began to mutter, only to see the royal seal of Princess Celestia on the scroll. Opening it, he saw it was a rather short letter indeed.

"Dearest Spike, I trust your journey has been going more or less to plan? As you are married, it is time we inform you of a bit more of your heritage. The names you know of for your ancestors were those given to them by the public. In reality, they too had a last name, one which you have inherited. Spike, your last name is not 'the Dragon', as you have been called all your life. Your true last name is Dragul, a very old and very honorable name."

Well, that was new: he finally had a last name. Spike Dragul, knight of Prance, prince of Equestria, lord of several Spreignish estates... Wow, that was a lot of titles already. Still, he had to wonder: why he had never been told of this either?

"I gathered from your sudden supply of Prench materials that you have indeed crossed over the border into southern Germareny. I advise you to waste no time, and Spike, please treat them both right."

"Sincerely, Princess Celestia."

Spike looked at the scroll with confusion. Treat them _both_ right? He had only told the others of his marriage to Maria: how could the princess have known he had married Meia as well? Did she have spies following him? Was he being watched?

"No," Spike told himself, feeling foolish for thinking of such a thing. More likely than not, Celestia had concluded he'd had married Meia after writing about her so much. Perhaps Celestia, in her long life, had learned to tell the signs when someone had strong feelings for another, even if they didn't recognize it at the time. Yes, that was much more acceptable and logical an answer than spies and secret watching spells.

Of course he would treat them both right! They were his wives, and he loved them dearly. He knew Celestia's letter was just a friendly reminder, yet he felt obligated to tell himself he'd die for his wives. The truth was far more complex than that: he'd give up everything he owned, _including_ his life, to protect them. Dragons were very possessive of their mates, and as these two were his, he would do anything to keep them safe.

Still, as he looked out over the hills, it seemed only a few days ago that he had boarded the train for Manehattan and run into Trixie. Sure, she had shown him the ways of sex, and he had further expanded on that with his wives, but the truth was, he missed home. The drake still couldn't believe it had been a little more than a month since he had set sail aboard the Crowhop. In that time, he had married two beautiful unicorns and had become rather rich, if all the treasure he had sent back was anything to go by.

Still, he knew there was more out there for him to find, to do, to explore, and with that thought in mind, he began to softly sing to himself as he readied the carriages for the night.

Meanwhile, in the minds of two sleeping unicorns, two very different dreams were playing out.

Maria looked around her, atop of a gilded chair. There were many around the circular table, with one chair in particular standing out, as if was laced with golden and silver emblems. The others had similar decorations, but their occupants remained in shadow. Next to her own seat sat Meia, but she wore a mask for some reason. That, coupled with the hood pulled over her head, hid her horn from view.

Spike sat in the most decorated chair, looking a bit older than he did now. His body was slightly larger, his features more masculine and she could tell by the look in his eyes he had been contemplating something for a while.

"Well, I say we put it to a vote," he said at last. "We are as one family now, so all of the decisions should be made as a family. Those in favor of strictly private tutors, say I."

None of the shadowy figures spoke a word. Spike looked around in surprise before speaking again. "All those in favor of strictly public education, say I."

Again, not a peep from any of the figures, and Maria found herself unable to say a thing. Meia shifted slightly to her side, but she too said nothing.

"Then it is decided," Spike said, a smile forming on his face. "Just as a formality, all those in favor of a mixture of both educational systems, say I." He didn't say anything, though one could tell by the glimmer in his eyes that this option was the one he had chosen.

All of the shadowy figures agreed, though their voices were distorted in some way that made them impossible to tell just who they were. They were feminie, all right, but who did those voices belong to? Maria suddenly found her own voice as well and agreed with the rest of the figures, as did Meia. "Excellent," Spike said, smiling. He turned his head to a waiting butler pony, who was standing vigilant besides the dragon. "Jarvis, you may let the children in now."

Wait, what? Children? Maria's eyes nearly bugged out of her skull as the doors opened and light shone into the room, though it filtered through the many manes and spines headed their way. Children, many of them, filtered in through the door, all varying in height and apparent age. Their features remained in shadow, though she could have sworn one of the little colts had her mane...

"Children..." she muttered, just as the room went dark. She opened her eyes at that and found Spike finishing setting up camp as the sun began to slowly dip behind the farthest hill.

"Maria, are you all right?" he asked, looking a tad concerned. "You were muttering in your sleep."

His wife blinked a few times. "Yes, yes: I am fine, Spike. Just an odd dream is all: nothing to worry about."

His concern apparently eased, Spike went to get a few things from a carriage. Perhaps some time in the future she would tell him: right now, Maria felt it would be best for her to keep this dream- or was it a vision? -to herself. She turned to see Meia's eyes flutter open and her breathe in suddenly, as if waking from a bad dream.

"Are you all right?" she whispered to the fellow unicorn.

Meia slowly nodded her head. "Odd dream," she muttered.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Maria asked.

"N-no, no thank you: it was just a dream," Meia said. When Maria didn't press the issue, to which the other unicorn was grateful, Spike arrived with some food. Sitting down, they quietly ate as the sun continued to disappear over the distant horizon.

The thing was, Meia knew very well she couldn't talk about the dream she had had. "More like a nightmare," she thought as she bit into some bread. Even as Queen of the Changelings, Meia/Chrysalis was not immune to fear, and truth be told, she felt that in what she had seen.

She had found herself standing in the balcony of a tower, chained before a shadowy figure. The chains suspeded her, so that even if she wanted to fall, she would remain hanging in an upright manner. Her body hurt, wracked with pains emanating from the recesses of her stomach. The figure stepped forward in time for her Meia disguise to falter and slip away, revealing the Queen of the Changelings, Chrysalis, in her place.

It was Spike, and he too was chained, from his legs to his arms and even his neck. The manacles looked durable and cast in some metal that not even he could break, though it seemed his body was too broken to even try. But his eyes were alight with a cold fury, with pain and sorrow that Chrysalis felt would overwhelm any who tried to ease it.

"You lied to me, to all of us," he said, his chains rattling slightly. "You betrayed me: it was all just some ploy, some plot to take over Equestria again, wasn't it! Tell me the truth, you overgrown insect!" His voice had risen to a shout, sounding more terrible than the greatest of storms in its ferocity.

"No, no!" Chrysalis had screamed in her dream, struggling against the weight of her own body. "No, Spike. It was my intention to use you, but I soon lost sight of that. I love you!"

"A creature like you feeds off of love: you cannot feel it for yourself," the dragon said, his now-soft voice filled with bitter contempt. "Though you may be thick with my seed, what you carry is no child of mine. The others and I face the gallows for your treachery, for your deceit, and I go gladly, so that I may never see your rotten face again. I never loved you, and nopony ever will! You will be alone, forever, with only your 'feelings' giving you any sort of solace!"

"No Spike: NO!" Chrysalis had shouted, only to find herself floating high above a city. Storm clouds had rolled in and lightning clashed with thunder in a battle as old as weather itself. The sky had turned red, red as blood, and the seas surrounding the city's coastline raged as if they felt the sorrow within her. "No, Spike! Come back to me! It cannot end this way!" Her shouts were buffeted y the wind and rain, drowned out by the roar of thunder. In the middle of a city, a structure burned with unnatural flame, licking outwards and seemingly smiling as it devoured whatever was inside. A small burst of green flame shot forth, forming what looked to be a single teardrop.

Then everything had gone dark, and she felt strangely buoyant, as if she were floating in the waters of the Barnlantic once more. Her mind soon drifted back to the old stories her own mother had told her when she was young. Her mother: a changeling so kind to her daughter, and yet so cruel to everyone else.

"Now Chrissy, you must know of our kind's past, as it is the key to our future."

"But mother, I know all that stuff!" She had been listening to those same stories for so long, that even as her mother combed her hair, she would rather listen on how to use arcane spells.

"Not of our legends, of our eventual rebirth. But perhaps you are right: you have grown too old for simple bed-time stories, my little filly." There was the feeling of soft lips on her head as she was tucked in, something the queen had not allowed anyone but herself to do. "Goodnight, little Chrissy."

The kiss to her forehead had awoken Chrysalis, so that when she blinked, she could have sworn she saw her mother's face looking at her from the sky. But it was merely an illusion, and as she finished eating with her husband, a not-so-little piece of the frozen heart that was within Chrysalis melted, like a glacier under the heat of an intense sun. Overall, it was not much, but it was a start, a slippery slope to a place she did not know.


	13. A Familiar Face in an Unfamiliar Place

Chapter Thirteen

A Familiar Face in an Unfamiliar Place

The carriages rolled gently along the roads that wound through the countryside of Southern Germareny. It had only taken a few days for the magical carriages to cross much of the terrain, and soon enough the distant mountains that marked the border between Germareny and Austria, lorded over by the Horseburgs family. They had been in power for centuries, and unlike their neighbors to the southeast, they had managed to peacefully rule through a combination of democratic parliament and generosity towards their subjects.

So the three carriages passed through the alpine countryside, the scenic villages and green hills starkly contrasted by the high mountain peaks and the dark forests. Here and there they stopped, buying supplies from villagers and the occasional trinkets that caught their fancy. Spike himself would buy few things that did not go back to Equestria, but still the gold in their carriages was hardly going to run out anytime soon.

Of course, there were a few dangers: the mountains had the occasional avalanche, but it never happened when the carriage was nearby. It always happened far ahead of them on the road or far behind in the place they had already passed through. Meia chalked it up to simply good luck: Spike had to agree with her on that, though he couldn't help but shake the feeling magic was at play. It was only when he asked Maria about at their next stop that she admitted to setting them off before or after they were in danger of them. When asked why, she simply stated: "A useful spell like that is useful only as long as it can be of use to those involved." Whatever that meant: maybe she just liked seeing snow.

Her fierce emotional outbursts at local villagers who whistled when Spike came by meant she needed a good talking to by Spike, which usually ended with her apologizing and occasionally crying herself to sleep. She would then remain well-behaved and had actually learned to be civil towards others after a while, though she was still wary: of course, how could she not be after her treatment by the baron? She hadn't been like this before those fateful days in Prance: before she was entirely disciplined and rather gentle. Now her more aggressive nature gave rise to the possibility she had been much more affected by their imprisonment then had been previously thought, and Spike worked his hardest to get through to her.

Eventually he did, though the reason behind it all was the mistreatment of little Pierre before her very eyes. She had instantly taken a liking to the small colt and had seen him as almost like a little brother. That, plus the helplessness she felt whenever he had been hurt, made her feel that being gentle did not get somepony far in life, and that her life of luxury had dulled her to the harsh realities of the world. Spike managed to convince her that being gentle was not only a great asset but a vitally important characteristic, even going so far as to tell her of Fluttershy's own problems. She became much more calm about it all after she had cried herself out, but there would be psychological wounds deep within her: all it needed to heal was Spike's love and time, and she had plenty of that to look forward to.

Still, by the time the trio had worked their way to the border of Austria, it had been nearly two weeks since they had entered the country. Maria and Meia had wasted no time in enjoying Spike, though the weather had been off-putting a few times. It was hard to get frisky when the rain outside was pouring, though cramming everyone in one carriage was far from romantic. That, and Spike not wanting to stink one up with the smell of sex meant no hanky-panky when it was raining: or snowing, or hailing, or sleeting. Heavy fog was also annoying, as even though they could have "fun" outside, the two mares would still be rather wet when they got back inside the carriages.

When the sun was out, though, and nobody was around, it was on like Donkey Kong. Stress faded when they mated under the sun and moon and stars, as if they were primeval spirits enjoying the beauty the world had to offer. Still, it was with very calm hearts that they moved through the area known as Brenner Pass, which connected the countries of Neightaly and Austria. Bidding the final locals goodbye after stopping to buy some more supplies, they crossed through the pass and continued on their way. In this time, Spike had been careful in his letters to NOT tell Twilight he had been shagging his wives relentlessly, lest he get he ever dreaded "birds, bees and baby bunnies" talk she always brought up whenever pregnancy was a factor. Thankfully, their heat cycles had ended back in Spreign, and Maria wasn't showing.

Immediately things changed: the language, obviously, was the first big distinction. Compared to the rather earthy tones of their northerly neighbors, the Neightalian seemed rushed in comparison, as if quick and busy were the way things were in the whole country. Nothing could have been farther from the truth, but the language did seem a trifle complex for the trio. However, the next biggest change, after getting out of the mountains, was the sheer number of hills and valleys that seemed to go on forever. Villages, churches and vineyards covered the landscape as the carriages wound their way through the country for the next week. Roads, both ancient and newer in design, dotted the landscape, as did old ruins from times gone by: the time of the Roamans, to be exact. Spike's camera could barely keep up with all the pictures he was taking, and when he sent in the next bundle for Twilight and the gang, he was sure the sheer amount of photo paper weighed a good ten pounds.

Then, upon rounding a bend, they saw it. The great city of Roam: one of the oldest and largest in all of Europe. Terracotta roofs and stone houses spread as far as the eye could see, with great wonders of the ancient world displayed for all. The Appian Way, the Coliseum, and Hadrian's Arch: it was all magnificent as the three carriages rode through the tightly-crowded streets.

The three left their carriages behind at a parking square of sorts, though the anti-theft spells Meia and Maria placed on them ensured nothing would go missing. So the three walked out amongst the throngs of the crowd, slowly but surely moving their way through the city as the day went on.

"I can't believe I'm actually in Roam, the birthplace of my ancestor," Maria said, her eyes almost locked in an open position so she wouldn't miss a thing. Tall stone pillars and columns were seemingly everywhere, with some places covered in hanging gardens and long, flowering vines. Several bridges crossed small rivers nearest the seemingly most clustered part of the city, where the trio soon found themselves.

"Who is that?" Spike asked, nodding in the direction of an elderly white earth pony. He was waving to the crowds as he was carried aloft in what seemed thick glass, which in and of itself was suspended in a magical bubble: a shield spell. Also, his hat looked a bit big for his head, but his droopy ears kept it upright. He had a great big smile on his face, like that of a loving grandstallion who was greeting his visiting grandfoals.

"Oh my word," Maria gasped, pushing Meia into Spike's arms to get a better look. "That's... that's... that's Pope Ben-neigh-dict the Sixteenth!"

"Who?" Spike and Meia asked in unison, having never left Equestria before and being unaware of the politics of the outside world.

"The leader of the Church of Jesus, the E-mane-uel!" Maria said, performing an intricate and odd little motion with her hands. "He is the spiritual successor to an entire religion!"

"Church of who?" Meia asked in particular as the pope floated away. Maria turned and without a word pulled them away from the crowd until they were fairly alone in a small alley.

"Jesus, our lord," she said, doing the motions once more. "He was a pony born long ago, before the time of your Nightmare Moon incident. He was a simple earth pony, and yet... he could do things that no earth could do!"

"Such as?" Spike asked, rather intrigued.

"Turn water into wine, multiply food and drink for hungry ponies, heal the sick: you name it!"

"But unicorns can do all of those things," Meia said, slightly nonplussed.

"Not all," Maria said. "Can they successfully raise the dead to their former lives? Can they stop storms on a whim? Walk on water without so much as getting wet?"

"Okay, okay I get it," Meia said, suddenly a little frightened by Maria's intensity. "I can understand why a religion would spring up around so special a pony."

"Yeah, he does sound like quite the po-," Spike was cut off with a yelp as he flew backwards. Meia and Maria stopped talking and looked around: nothing had hit Spike. What had just happened?

"Are you all right?" Meia asked, helping Spike to his feet.

"I-I think so," Spike said. "Just what was tha-," he was cut off again as he flew backwards, farther this time.

"What the hay!" he shouted, just as he flew up into the air and landed on a roof. Meia and Maria spied a ladder nearby, but it looked old and rusty, and would likely come apart of they tried to climb it. Closing their eyes, they teleported themselves up onto the roof with Spike, who was unsteadily getting to his feet. For Twilight, teleporting would have been no breeze, but to the two unicorns, they hadn't had much practice with it, so they felt a bit drained of magic.

"What's going on?!" he shouted, just as whatever was happening to him happened again: this time, Spike flew a good ten yards past the two mares and landed on another rooftop with a loud thud. The truth was, Chrysalis could have teleported anywhere she wanted, but she needed to maintain her disguise, and right now she couldn't concentrate on the source of the magic.

"I don't believe it," Meia said. "That's a summoning spell! Someone's summoning Spike to them!"

"But who?!" Maria shouted as they ran across the rooftops after Spike, who could barely get to his feet before lurching through the air like a thrown stone. He let out another shout as he flew, his wings frantically beating to try and arrest his movement: no such luck.

"Well, it's obviously someone who knows how to use magic!" Meia shouted, leaping over the small gap between two buildings as she and Maria gave chase. "I'm guessing it's a unicorn who doesn't know teleportation, as any alicorn worth their hide would know how to teleport someone!" That, and there were few alicorns indeed, none being in Roam or even all of Neightaly.

"What do I do?!" Spike shouted as he flew into the side of a taller building. As if stuck, he stayed exactly in that spot, until the next burst of the mysterious magic dragged him up along the wall and over the top.

"Try to grab onto something!" Maria shouted back, vaulting over a small aqueduct. "We're coming!"

Spike lashed out at the first thing he could: a hanging pot. Grabbing onto it, he felt the magic tug him, but the pot's chains held fast to the building. Another tug, stronger this time, almost made him lose his grip, but still he held on. He had a desperate, if comical, pleading look in his eyes.

Maria and Meia landed on the balcony just in time to see Spike zoom away, the pot still clenched in his hands as the chains holding it trailed after him.

Meia almost swore: this was getting them nowhere. "Come on!" she shouted, hauling after the disappearing dragon. Maria tore after her, both mares thankful they had changed their clothes in the cart to street clothes. As such, they had no trouble using their natural flexibility to chase after the dragon, but they were growing tired indeed.

Spike slammed into another wall, shouting in anger as he was magically dragged up and over, onto a large street. Meia and Maria stopped at the wall: there was no ladder and it was far too high for them to jump up on.

"Climb!" Maria shouted, running up the wall and latching onto an outward-facing stone brick. From there, she rapidly began to ascend to another one, and another one. Meia jumped up after her, her hold not nearly as strong as Maria's. As such, she was much slower, so much so that by the time she reached near the top, Maria was waiting for her.

"Come on!" she shouted, lowering her hand. "Grab onto me: I'll pull you up!"

Meia moved one hand to a better spot, but the brick she was holding began to give way. Thinking quickly, she leaped up as the brick she was on slipped out, her arms open wide. With the slimmest of margins she grabbed onto Maria's hand, which closed like a steel trap. Pulling with all her might, the unicorn pulled Meia up and over the side, where they collapsed on the ground, exhausted and panting.

"I... hate climbing," Meia said, wheezing slightly as her heart raced at what felt like a million miles per hour.

"Really? I've always enjoyed a good climbing session," Maria replied, brushing some bits of leaves out of her mane: running through gardens could get all sorts of things inside your mane.

"Well, I don't think I will any time soon. By the way, if you don't mind me asking, why didn't you leave me behind?"

"You'd think I'd just be so callous as that?" Maria asked. "Of course I could have left you behind: I could have let you fall. But I didn't: I wouldn't, I couldn't. Why? Because you're _familia_ to me, Meia, and _familia_ sticks together no matter what. We may not get along all the time: I am a perfect example of that, as you saw back in Spreign. But you... you are almost like a sister to me at this point, and I truly, deeply love you too much to just let anything bad happen to you. I could never let anything happen to you: if the guilt didn't get me, then Spike's guilt alone would crush me. I could not stand to put him through the pain of possibly losing you or making him chose between one of us."

"Well, thank you, I guess," the unicorn said, feeling a bit overwhelmed by her fellow unicorn's statement. It was a rare thing indeed to hear such words come from a unicorn that had lived a life of luxury her whole life, but the truth behind the words was solid and strong. "That's nice and all, but where's Spike?" Meia asked, hoping to not dwell too long on the matter..

"Right... right there," Maria said, pointing at Spike, who was propped up against a wall. He looked rather worried, but every time he tried to raise his arm or move his leg, it fell back against the wall: the magic was holding him there.

"Come on," Meia said, getting to her hooves as her breath returned. Walking over with Maria, they grabbed onto Spike's arms and tried to pry him off the wall: no such luck.

"Uh, ladies?" Spike said as they pulled harder. "I think whoever cast this spell might be getting closer."

"Why do you say that?" Maria asked.

"Because she's standing right behind you," Spike replied. Both mares turned to see a hooded figure standing behind them, a glow emanating from underneath the darkened hood.

"What are you doing to our husband?" Maria asked in a near shout, ready to pummel the unicorn. It was at the word 'husband' that the unicorn seemed to jerk in surprise. Unsteadily, the figure lowered the hood, until the white mane and pale blue fur could be seen. She had a look of complete surprise on her face.

"Well, I come to Roam to find you, and you're married to not one, but two mares?" Trixie said in disbelief.

"Trixie?" Spike asked, hs eyes nearly bugging out of his skull. "Uh... well... yeah. See, the thing is-,"

"We are his wives," Meia said, standing at Spike's side with her arms crossed. "Who might you be, Trixie?"

"A traveling unicorn showpony who has come a long way to find Mr. Spike here," the blue unicorn replied, her tone sounding a bit odd. "Him and I have unfinished business."

"Trixie, you said it wouldn't be anything but a fling," Spike replied, earning a curious glance from both Maria and Meia. "What? Oh, all right: I wasn't a virgin when I married either of you."

"You weren't? Maria asked. "Well, that was fairly obvious." Spike blushed at that: they were always going on and on about his skills.

"Well, you see, I met Trixie here on the train out of Canterlot and, well," Spike said, the magic suddenly disappearing from around him and allowing him free movement. "One thing lead to another, and..."

"I'd say," Trixie said, her hands on her curvy hips. "You're a talented dragon in bed, Spike, and an even harder one to find." She seemed anxious, as if seeing Spike was bringing up some rather personal and... happy memories.

"Why exactly did you come to find me?" Spike asked, rubbing the back of his head where it had slammed into stone bricks a few times. "Surely it wasn't just to try and get some good sex again, was it?"

"Of course not!" Trixie said, her cheeks coloring a bit: whether from memory or embarrassment, nobody knew. "It's just... there's something you need to know."

"Yes?" Spike asked, in a tone that suggested he was starting to fear for his life.

"Spike, I'm... pregnant."

Well, suffice to say, if the god of sounds had chosen to absolutely pass out at that point from partying too hard with the god of celebrations, then that was what seemingly happened. All sounds seemed to vanish for the gathered four as the three words slipped from the blue unicorn's mouth.

"Spike... I'm... pregnant."

The world could have ended right there and the trio wouldn't have noticed it. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, two more pairs of eyes turned to look at Spike, not containing fury, as Spike had thought they would, but... confusion. That was definitely not what he had been expecting.

"In the name of Tartarus, did she just say what I thought she said?" Meia asked, her eyebrows almost disappearing into her mane in surprise.

"...Yes?" Spike squeaked, his heart beating faster than a thousand drum solos amplified by bass cannons riding a thunderstorm over a million exploding fireworks. Yes, his heart was beating fast.

"And... you're the father?" Maria asked, an odd expression on her face. She turned to Trixie. "Is he?"

"Of course," Trixie replied. "It seems scaly Mr. 'Tree Trunk' here left a little surprise for me after we parted ways in Manehattan. I wasn't in heat then, but I entered it soon after, and boy did I feel something change quickly."

'Mr. Tree Trunk": an odd way to describe one's anatomy, but as ludicrous as it was, the truth had once again found a way to be expressed.

"But... how is that possible?" Spike asked, confused beyond rational thought. It was a wonder he could even speak right now, never mind breathe.

"Seems you don't know as much about your kind as you thought," Trixie said with a seemingly smug smile. "A dragon's seed is laced-no, oozing with magical properties, most of which are unknown. What is known is that, being such long-lived creatures, it only makes sense that your species would evolve a way to keep their... 'gifts' from spoiling rapidly, as do the 'gifts' of other species. Seems I didn't need to be in heat when we shagged all night for it to take hold: it just kept a bit of itself inside me that activated when I entered my cycle, despite my attempts to clean out that massive load you left. So congratulations, Spike: you're going to be a father."

Well, the new biology lesson was appreciated: Luna had been right in saying that the young needed to travel to find out more. But as soon as the word 'father' hit his ears, Spike promptly fainted away, dropping like a sack of stones onto the ground in front of them. Meia and Maria looked at Trixie, then Spike, and finally at each other.

"Come on, let's get him back to the carriages," Meia said. She pointed at Trixie. "Think you can get us a cart or something to move him?"

"Y-yes," the unicorn replied, a few bits floating out of her purse. She seemed a bit subdued now that her information had been revealed to Spike. Walking away, she returned with a small cart, once again magically enchanted to move as per its owner's instructions. Levitating the unconscious dragon into the cart, the three set off, back to where they had come from.

As they moved, Maria looked at Trixie occasionally until whatever was building inside her could not be contained. "Were you his first?"

"What?" Trixie asked, her mind off somewhere else.

"Spike: were you his first?" Maria said again.

"Well, yes: he told me as much," Trixie replied, not sure why the unicorn wanted to know. "What's it to you?"

"Well, you must have done a very good job, as Meia and I-," she pointed at the other passenger "-have been getting nothing but mind-blowing sex from our husband. Seems he just naturally developed from there, as from what we understand, he didn't have any sex with anypony after you until our wedding night. So: any plans for you and the child?"

"Well," Trixie said, a bit hesitantly at that. "I... I was hoping Spike would marry me, and raise the foal with me, but seeing as he has you two, and he can't settle down with his misson..."

"There's always room for more, Miss Trixie," Meia said. "He must not have told you this, but Spike here is actually Spike Dragul, a royal of Equestria."

"A royal?" Trixie repeated, her eyes nearly evacuating their sockets in surprise. "He... never told me that! How... how royal is he?"

"He said he's the next co-ruler of all of Equestria: to rule alongside the princesses, if my memory is correct," Maria said. "So: any doubts now?"

"Uh, I don't know," Trixie said, still sounding a bit unsure.

"Well, even though he'd gladly take care of both you and the foal, you'll have to understand something," Maria said. "To be known as a dragon who begets some mare with foal out of wedlock, not only could it ruin your reputation, but it could devastate his own. He could be ridiculed, laughed at behind his back by upper-class citizens who merely give up for adoption unwanted children. Would you want that?"

"What? N-no, never!" Trixie responded a bit forcefully, placing a hand over her still-flat stomach. "I do feel like I love him, and for what it's worth, I think he loves me too. I just... I just need some time to think is all."

"Well, you'd better think fast, 'cause we're not going to be staying in Roam for long," Meia said as they reached the carriages. The sun wasn't as high in the sky as it had been before, but it would still be several hours before it disappeared over the horizon.

"W-where are you going after this?" Trixie asked. "Spike told me he was going around the world, but I never thought he'd go outside of Europe..." Seems keeping the unicorn mare in the dark had not exactly been the brightest thing Spike could have done, but hey: it was the most logical.

"Oh, we'll be on our way to Algereigns, and then through the Samarea Desert down to Maredagascar," Meia replied. "After that, I forget: perhaps you should ask him when he wakes? I think he has the whole route planned out in his head. That, and he occasionally receives letters from the princesses informing him of things."

Trixie was silent for a few minutes, the cogs in her head turning at what could only be interpreted as a frantic pace. "Yes," she said finally. "Yes, I want to marry Spike. He's not a pony, and yet he's unlike anypony I've ever met. I want to be with him: truly, I do."

"Excellent: that takes care of one problem," Meia said, looking over at the still out-cold dragon. "All we need to do is break the news to him when he wakes."

"How long do you think that will be?" Trixie asked.

"Not a clue: just stick around. We have a lot to talk about," Maria said, settling down.


	14. Sojourn

Chapter Fourteen

Sojourn

Well, suffice to say that when Spike finally came to, he was immediately bombarded by the sight of Trixie sitting next to him. Not an unwelcome sight, mind you, but still one he was still having trouble coming to grips with. "T-Trixie?" he said, his mind still piecing things together. "How... how are you doing?"

"Fine, thanks," she replied, shifting a bit. "How have you been?"

"Well, besides a storm while on the _Crowhop_ and that nasty baron in Prance, I'd say pretty good," he said. "How did you get to Roam, anyways?"

"An oblong hot-air balloon, a dirigible I believe they called it," the unicorn said, twirling a bit of her mane between her fingers. "Pretty big one: seated almost one hundred of us."

"Wait, those are usable for transporting ponies?" Spike asked. "I thought they were used for cargo in the mountains." He didn't remember any really being mentioned outside of the books on newer forms of travel.

"Yes, well, the passenger ones can only go through very large cities, and it is rather expensive to travel by them," Trixie said, scooting closer to him. "It cost me a lot of bits to find you, mister dragon."

"Money will not be an issue," Spike said, realizing that for someone as frugal as Trixie had likely become, her business was really her only source of funds. Now that she had come to find him and reveal this news to him, her show was on hiatus until further notice: she wouldn't be making any bits at all.

"I know, Spike: I'm just not sure about us, and the foal," she said, rubbing her still-flat stomach.

"How far along are you?" Spike asked.

"Around a few weeks at least, if not maybe a month or so at the most. The doctor pony told me it should be a big one: likely bigger than a normal foal when born." She looked up from her stomach to the dragon. "I'm thinking it'll be a filly."

"Well, no matter if it's a colt or filly, I want to be there for you," Spike said, hoping he had thought of this right in his dreamland. Well, there had been ice cream and volcanoes, but the plan was still there.

"I know, Spike: I know," Trixie said, gently rubbing his hand with hers. "It's just... I want this foal to have the best possible future, and raising him or her by myself would definitely not work out. I was hoping you'd... you'd... marry me."

"Of course," said Spike without so much as a blink. Well, that part came around a lot faster and easier than he had thought. "Of course I'll marry you, Trixie."

She smiled graciously and threw her arms around the drake, pulling him into a hug. "Oh, Spike: thank you! I just wish... never mind," she said.

"Wish what?" Spike asked, returning her embrace but with a puzzled expression.

"It's silly," Trixie said, her voice becoming a whisper, as if she'd be mortified if any overheard her talking.

"It's won't be silly to me," Spike replied. "Tell me, please."

"Oh, all right," Trixie said, releasing herself from his grasp. "I was hoping to send your... friend Twilight Sparkle the news: about the foal and all." Spike did not laugh: instead, he became rather... pale. "Are you okay, Spike?" Trixie asked, sounding suddenly concerned.

"Yeah, it's just..." Spike began, scratching the back of his neck. "I know how you and Twilight have become good friends and all over the years, even with your busy schedule, and I'm not sure how she'll react to this... news. I feel she might try to flay me alive."

"Oh, Spike: don't be silly," Trixie said, magically retrieving some paper and a quill from her pack. "I am sure she'll understand."

A few hours later, in Canterlot...

Twilight was sipping tea with her friends after finishing with divvying up the last of Spike's goods from Austria. There had been quite the number, and Twilight felt exhausted, to put it mildly.

She felt a strange feeling overcome her horn. "Ooh, another letter!" she squealed, causing her friends to look at her anxiously. Settling down, her horn glowed a bit before the scroll popped into existence above her. Reaching out with her hand, the purple unicorn caught it with practiced ease and pried the sealant off.

"_Dear Twilight,_" she began to read aloud, her eyes slowly working their way over each word so as not to miss anything. "_I have arrived in Roam and will be leaving soon enough for Algereigns. However, something unexpected has come up._"

"Unexpected?" Twilight repeated to her friends, raising her eyebrows. They all merely shrugged their shoulders.

She continued. "As you know, I am married to Maria and Meia, but I met someone..." her words trailed off as she read, her lips silently forming the words "_Trixie", "train"_, and...

"I'LL FLAY HIM ALIVE!" she shouted suddenly, jumping up, sending her tea flying. Luckily Rarity's own magic caught it before it could splash everywhere, with her friends all having almost fallen backwards at Twilight's outburst.

"My dear, what ever is the matter?" Rarity said, extremely puzzled. Pinkie Pie pulled Fluttershy out from behind a few curtains, and Applejack readjusted her hat after Twilight's shout had nearly blown it off.

"It's Spike!" Twilight shouted, her hands balling into fists. "He's... he's... oh, that insufferable dragon! The next time I see him, he's gonna be in a world of hurt!"

"My dear, it can't be that bad," Rarity said, retrieving the scroll and reading it to herself. Rainbow Dash flittered behind her, her wings holding her aloft as she tried to read it as well.

Rarity glanced over her shoulder. "You know, it's rude to read over someone's shoulder, Dash."

"Uh, fine," the rainbow-colored pegasus muttered, flittering back to her seat by Fluttershy, who had calmed down enough to not tremble like a tree in a hurricane.

"Ahem," Rarity continued, clearing her throat. "_As you know, I took the train to out of Canterlot. There, I met Trixie, and well, one thing lead... to... another..._" Rarity's words almost died in her throat as her face turned an interesting shade of red.

"Come on! What happened?!" Pinkie nearly shouted, almost doing a flip out of her chair.

"Spike... is going to be a... a father," Rarity said, her blush intensifying.

There were several audible gasps at this statement, before Rainbow Dash punched a fist into the air.

"Yeah! I knew he had it in him!" she shouted, pausing as she felt the eyes of her friends look at her with disdain. "What?"

"Well, sugarcube," Applejack began, taking the letter from Rarity, who had finished the letter and had a far-off look in her eyes. "It says here Trixie was pregnant before they met again in Roam. He's gettin' married to her at sunset, so that means they're hitched right now. Outta wedlock, that foal coulda been born. Ya know what that means?"

"No?" Dash replied.

"It means disgrace, shame: all sorts of horrible things!" Twilight said, her shout now more like a loud grumble. "Plus, he had the nerve to insinuate that I had a hand in teaching him his... moves!"

"Well, didn't you catch him readin' yer dirty magazines awhile back?" Applejack asked, cocking an eyebrow. Twilight turned a darker shade of purple.

"That... that was different. I-I enjoy those for the articles."

"Sure you do," Dash said, winking. "So: Spike's gonna be a dad. A first, I gotta say."

"What do you mean, a first?" Fluttershy asked, opening her mouth for the first time.

"Well, outta all of us, he's gonna be the first to be a parent," Dash said, a tad solemnly at that. The others were silent at her words: all of their tasks and their busy lives meant they were too busy for relationships. Strange: Spike was younger than them, and yet, he was going to be a parent first. Heck, he had three wives.

"Well, he'll still be in for it when I see him next," Twilight grumbled, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, well, I think Rarity will want to see him before you kill him," Pinkie said, causing Rarity to snap back to focus.

"Pinkie! That's not a very ladylike thing to say," she said, sounding both outraged and flustered. "For you to insinuate that my feelings for Spike have evolved beyond friendly is-,"

"Yeah, well, we can discuss our feelings later," Twilight said, cutting off the white unicorn as she sat back down with her tea. "Right now, we really need to check these finances."

The others groaned slightly but got back to work, ruffling through the papers.

Back in Roam, the ceremony was over. It had been a small one, with only a few passing attendees. Spike and Trixie were married: she filled, as Spike thought, the third spot for his minimum total of wives, and all unicorns to boot. Whether it was fate, chance, or some deep psychological attraction to the species, he hadn't a clue, but he did know one thing: if this journey took more than ten or eleven months, then he'd have a foal to take care of during the last legs of it.

Truth be told, he was far more excited at the prospect of being a father than being scared, but if the foal was born during the trip, then they'd have to move much slower. Travel such as this was difficult for anyone, and a foal was not near as durable as an adult.

Soon enough, the entirety of their gold supply was down more than it had been when they arrived. Plenty left for much of the journey, and that was after Spike had bought and sent back so many goods to Equestria. Surprisingly, he had yet to get a letter back from Twilight on his revelation of his marrying/impregnating Trixie. That threw him for a loop: surely she had something to say. She always did, after all.

Our four left the city of Roam in the three carriages once more, the third carriage being occupied by both Spike and Trixie. They had a lot to catch up on, so Maria and Meia stayed in the other carriages, as they had for the last few weeks.

The rolling hills of the countryside gave way to mountains here and there as the roads wound themselves down through Neightaly. Spike was looking out the window at the setting sun when he heard Trixie mutter something to herself.

"Yes dear?" he asked, looking over at her. She looked up from a small book she had been reading, her cheeks flushing slightly at his attention.

"Oh, Spike: sorry to interrupt your sightseeing," she said, closing the book after placing a marker in it. "I was just reading up on some unicorn biology."

"For the foal?" Spike asked.

"Yes," she replied, folding her hands in her lap. "As you know, all four species of pony have more or less the same kind of cycle: heats every once in a while during the year, with the longest-lasting one usually around the end of winter or mid-spring. While it may vary by a few weeks, the pregnancy lasts around eleven months. I was just wondering to myself: just how long will this journey of yours- I mean, ours, take?"

"Honestly, I have no idea," Spike said, his mind already filing away the information for later. "It should take less than a year, I should hope, unless we meet some impasse or unfortunate circumstance that delays us."

"Well, _I_ should hope that we arrive back in Equestria before the foal wants to meet the world," Trixie said, patting her stomach slightly. "By Celestia, I am going to get so fat." her ears lowered at her words, as if she felt sad for herself.

"No!" Spike admonished, hearing the slight tone of disappointment in her voice. "You won't get fat, Trixie. If anything I've learned about biology means anything, then the most you'll get is a small swelling in the stomach region. You'll still be sexy."

The unicorn blinked, her ears perking up. "Really?" she asked, a smile gracing her features. "You'll still think I'm sexy?"

"Of course," Spike replied, mentally high-fiving his brain for the quick thinking. If someone had told him one year ago he'd have three wives and be a dashing, wooing rogue, he'd have told them they were crazy.

"Do you... think I'm sexy now?" Trixie asked, leaning closer to her husband.

"Yes, of course," Spike said, feeling an awful amount of déjà vu coming over him.

Trixie leaned forward enough until she was resting her body on Spike's, her head against his chest. "Since it's too cramped in here, would you just hold me?" Her arms clutched his sides as she breathed in his masculine scent.

"Of course: I'd be glad to," Spike said, laying his arms over her and pulling her close.

"I love you, Spike," she said, closing her eyes as the gentle rocking of the carriage made her drowsy. Spike's warmth also played a factor in it.

"I love you too, Trixie," Spike said, kissing the top of her head. He made a conscious effort to not touch her horn: such actions had a way of... exciting unicorns. "I love all of you." That last part was but a whisper to himself, still carrying the same conviction he felt when he told each of them the same. Soon enough, his eyes too became heavy, and he drifted off to sleep.

He found himself atop a tall tower, looking out over fields and forests. Everywhere, ponies of all shapes, sizes and colors gathered around the base, kneeling before him. Spike turned to his left and saw his wife Meia, wearing a mask and some sort of glistening cape. In her hands, she held a small bundle.

He could not see the contents, but the air was alive with a buzzing of sorts, as if a million dragonflies were beating their wings at the same time. However, the skies were clear of any insects or even pegasi.

Raising the small bundle to the sky, Meia cried out to the ponies below, causing a cheer to erupt from them. The buzzing intensified as the sun broke through some clouds and illuminated the small bundle, revealing-

"Mmm," a voice sounded, causing Spike's dream to rapidly fade away. He tried to see through the brightening darkness, but all he could hear was a humming noise. Well, and feel it, too: he could definitely feel it.

"Wha?" Spike said drowsily, looking down. Through his sleep-encrusted eyes, he could see a white mane moving... up and down near a very personal region. That, and some wet slurping noise greeted his ears.

"Trixie? What are you-,"

"Shush, Spike," she said, cutting off his questions as she let his "love-stick" drop from her mouth. "Just sit back and enjoy this." With that, she took him back into her mouth, the slurping noise returning as her saliva coated his member. Spike almost closed his eyes to revel in the feeling, but he kept them open. He watched as the blue unicorn seemingly devoured his shaft, licking it up and down like some candied sweet. How she had managed to fish it out of his trousers without waking him was anypony's guess, but Spike didn't really care about that now.

He could feel that similar feeling of eruption creeping up on him, but for the moment he held it at bay, his control at least stalling his body's response. That was, until the back of her throat hit the tip of his swollen cock.

"Mmmph," Trixie moaned around the large phallus in her mouth, drool running slightly down the sides of it as she kept most of it in her mouth. She had been able to take it quite a bit farther than Meia or Maria: still not all the way, but a remarkable feat nonetheless. Spike gasped slightly at the new sensation of her tongue running all over his shaft while Trixie's mouth held him in place with her suction. Soon enough, after only a few minutes of this tortuous pleasure, he relented.

After all the sex he had been having over the past few weeks, the amount that came out was nowhere near the "torrent" his brides were used to. Still, it was no laughing matter, as Trixie was barely able to swallow it without choking. She continued to suck it out of him until he was done, which still wasn't short by any means.

"Mmm, tastes like cream," she muttered, laying back down on him. He had no idea why his wives kept saying it tasted like chocloate or strawberries, or now cream: must have been different for everypony "So, Spike: how was your wake-up call?"

"Amazing: I could get used to this," he said, tenderly stroking her mane. "Do you always wake me up with sex?"

"Hmm, must just be fate," Trixie said. "After all, the "Great and Powerful Trixie" does not disappoint as she once did."

"I can see that," Spike said with a smile. "Though, I've been meaning to ask: since when did you stop referring to yourself in third-pony?"

The unicorn was silent for a moment. "A few years ago, some competitor came onto the show scene: a brash young colt, with an ego rivaling mine at its height. He called himself "The Great and Powerful Oz," and for a while ponies thought I had copied his title and form of speech. I changed, he didn't: ponies grew tired of him and he faded from sight, disappearing into the plains or something."

"Huh," Spike said. "Never heard of him."

"Good: he was unbearable to perform against," his wife said, snuggling closer to him. "Anything else you want to know?"

"Not right now," the drake replied, pulling her closer to him. "For now, let's just rest here, and think of the journey to come."

"Sounds nice," she replied, settling into his arms. So they sat there as the carriages continued on, never ceasing. They were wary after the last time they had stopped nowhere near any settled areas: Prance was indeed a learning experience for Spike, Meia and Maria.

The carriages continued down the interior of Neightaly, occasionally crossing over to the coastal roads. The scenery was rather beautiful, to be honest, and overall the villages they visited were rather friendly. Rolling hills, fertile fields of olives, the occasional winery dotting the landscape: it was all very scenic and Spike's pictures were like something out of a travel brochure. He didn't say anything, but the drake had a feeling that once many of these became known, Equestrian tourists would flock to this exotic and beautiful locale. Soon enough, after who knew how many exact miles they had traveled, the three carriages arrived at the southernmost point of Neightaly well into the afternoon..

From there, the four travelers booked passage aboard a small passenger ship, nowhere near the size of the Crowhop. From there, the planned route included a short stop in Pamarelo, a large city on the island of Sicily. After that, it would be a direct route to the northern tip of Algereigns, from where they would set off with any caravan passing the way they were going.

First things first: the trip on board the... well, Spike had no idea on how to pronounce it. All he did know was that it was spelled _Auditore_. Other than himself and his wives, only a few others had booked passage. As such, each of them got their own rooms, all right next to each other on the far end of the ship.

The sun was only slightly above the horizon as the ship sailed through the waters of the Meditermanean Sea, the waves much less severe than those of the Barnlantic. Spike had retreated to his own cabin as had the others: Trixie was not feeling well from the movement of the waves, and both Meia and Maria were tired from the long trip.

But stay in his cabin, Spike could not: he grew restless and eventually left it behind, going out to the main deck with a specially-made drink in hand. He sipped it quietly while he looked around: only a few other ponies were up there. The young drake sat down on a bench, trying to clearly think of the journey ahead without a roof over his head. The spray of the sea salt reminded him of when he had left Manehattan over a month ago.

"Oh," he thought to himself upon feeling an uplifting in his stomach. Opening his mouth, a small scroll popped out, and to his slight dismay, it wasn't from Twilight. It bore the royal seal of Princess Celestia.

Unclasping the seal, he began to read to himself.

"_Dearest Spike, I trust that your journey thus far has been fruitful?_" Jeez, did she know about Trixie being pregnant too? "_I write this letter to inform you of your next stop, in Algereigns no less. A sultan in the region, a very powerful sultan mind you, has been sending me letters for years now asking for information about the world outside of his nation. He has had very little political contact and I believe he has the best interests of his country at heart._"

Well, Celestia certainly had retained her method of cramming information into a letter: Spike read on.

"_Furthermore, this sultan, an Ahmad Rahal, I believe, wishes to meet a dragon. I was hoping you would stop by and stay for a short time, so as to indulge him with your presence and to learn anything you can from him. He is located in Agrabah, a city a ways away from the coastline._"

"_Sincerely, Princess Celestia._" Spike looked further down the letter: there was another note.

"_P.S. Congratulations are in order for your journey into fatherhood, Spike._"

Spike closed the letter, and put it away in his trousers' pocket, his mind sifting through this set of information. "Well, hopefully a caravan will be passing through this city: I doubt travel along the coastline will be safe," he muttered to himself. Spike had known for days that the northern coast of Africa was unsafe, as pirates, brigands and thieves patrolled the coasts in droves. It would be like meeting the baron all over again, except he'd likely be killed and his wives sold into slavery. He was taking no chances: the trip through the Samarea Desert would be far safer. Besides, the routes were all along oasis and such, so the going would get too rough.

He took another sip of his drink, something he had specially brewed from a few select ingredients back in the city of Neighples. To a dragon, it was a relaxant, specifically designed to reduce tension. It affected all other races differently: to minotaurs, it was a hallucinogenic, and to griffins, it was a sedative.

As he was musing, he could hear a few hushed but heated words off in a corner. Hoof steps fading away signaled one voice, feminine in nature, had gone down below. The other figure approached and sat down beside him: an earth pony stallion, by the looks of it.

"Hello, the name's Spike," Spike said, hoping to start a conversation.

"Greetings, I am Michael Corleone," the stallion replied with an oddly heavy accent: definitely Neightalian in origin.

"So, where are you headed off to?" the drake asked, looking out over the sea.

"Back home to Pamarelo, after a visit with my wife's family on the mainland," the stallion said, not continuing on after that. Not the chattiest fellow, was he?

They sat in silence for a while before Spike spoke again. "I couldn't help but overhear you arguing with somepony. Personal problems?"

The stallion sighed. "My wife, Caterina. She and I have wanted a foal for some time, but... I'm always tired when I come home from working out in the fields, you know? I make more than enough to take care of us, and yet... right now she's in heat, and I'm exhausted. I don't know what else to do." He sounded like he was at wit's end, and this was obviously placing great strain on his marriage.

Spike was surprised at this: even back in Ponyville, farmers had more than enough energy after a hard day of work to do things around town, whether it was to help build, repair or move things. He took another sip of his drink, right as a revelation hit him. He looked into the contents, remembering just what the seller had told him.

"_For ponies, messire, this brew is of a hefty stimulant, with an addition of acting as an aphrodisiac. Be careful, though: any pony who drinks this may become wild and unruly if not sated._"

He looked over at the stallion who seemed so downtrodden at his own misfortune. "Here, have a drink of this, and let me ask you something," Spike said. The stallion tentatively took the drink and sipped it, listening to the drake.

"Do you love your wife?" Spike asked, remembering the psychology scrolls and books Twilight had forced him to read after the bullying incident between Babs and Applebloom. Thankfully they had become good friends, but the lessons, while boring, had proven to be invaluable.

"Of course," the stallion said, drinking a bit more of the brew. Already his neck straightened and he seemed to tense up slightly: wow, that stuff worked fast.

"Do you want your wife to be happy?" Spike asked, noticing the changes immediately. Nostrils beginning to flare, eyes widening as the drug went through his system: this stallion was ready.

"Of course, _messire_," the stallion said again. Spike gently took the drink from him and smiled.

"Then I want you to go down to your wife's room, lock the door behind you, and show her how much she means to you," he said. "Show her how much you love her."

With a springing motion the stallion leaped to his hooves, nostrils flared and a wild look in his eyes. "I do not know why I feel so energized, dragon, but I thank you," Michael said, and with that he tore off down the stairs, a door slamming shut soon after.

Spike leaned back and sighed, staying on deck until his drink was finished. After that, he went back down to his cabin and rolled into bed, the night sky high above twinkling with innumerable stars. Several doors down, he could hear moans and thumps against the wall. Well, many more thumps than moans, and from the intensity of them, it was going to last a long time. Hopefully his own wives wouldn't mind the noise.

"Good work, Mr. Corleone," Spike mused as his eyes closed. "Show her the same love I feel for my own wives." With that, he promptly fell asleep, drifting off into dreamland once more.


	15. Palatial Party

Chapter Fifteen

Palatial Party

Spike bid Michael and his wife Caterina goodbye the next morning after the ship had docked in Pamarelo. Caterina had had a goofy expression on her face, and adding to the fact that her mane was incredibly askew, she walked on her hooves as though her unsteady legs might fall off at any moment. Discreetly, Spike had slipped Michael the ingredients for the drink, reminding him that it was very potent and only a little would be needed. The earth pony thanked the drake, stating his family had been having this problem before and this would help them, if not all his fellow workers, immensely.

As the [i]Auditore[/i] left port a few hours later, Spike couldn't help but smile: he was even willing to bet that the population of Sicily would increase by a sizeable margin within the coming years. There had always been problems with shortage of workers, but now it seemed, and singlehandedly thanks to Spike, the island would soon experience a foal boom.

So the ship sailed, narrowly avoiding a minor storm as it did so. It only took the better part of the morning, but by the time the sun was high in the sky, the ship docked at a rather large coastal town in northern Algereigns. Spike and his wives left the ship, instantly finding themselves pressed in by the cords of merchants and locals buying and selling their wares. It was a rather odd sight, to see so many ponies of all kinds, and even a few zebras, packed together so tightly and yet going along with their business as if they were the only ones there. Finding a small caravan that was heading to the main city of Agrabah was simple enough, but it took quite a chunk out of the little gold they still had left. Well, after Spike and the others had bought some new clothes and things for him to eventually send back, like spices.

"I wonder what it will be like?" Meia asked, fanning herself as they rode atop some camels. Unlike the rest of the ungulate world, camels reveled in performing physical labor and gladly would serve as "beasts of burden", though they were still paid and all. The only difference was that their physiology had not granted them hands and they still had to walk on all four hooves. "Hopefully it will be cooler in the place we'll be staying in." All of them, except for Spike of course, were sweating rather uncomfortably in the sweltering heat. They had not yet gone into true desert, but the rocks and patchy grasslands were still unlike the cool European climate they had grown so accustomed to.

Spike had chosen to adopt some of the local garb, as they all had, and his face was partially rapped in a large turbine. He pulled it to the side a bit to speak. "Well, we will be staying with the local sultan in his palace, and if I remember anything from the lessons on architecture, then it'll have cool cross-breezes built into it. Besides, from what the locals told me back in port, buildings here don't hold heat very well. It actually gets cold during the night, especially the farther into the desert you go."

"Well, it'll be nice to get somewhere nice and cool," Trixie said from under her small umbrella, fanning herself from atop the camel she road. "It sure does smell out here."

"Sorry, that's me," the camel said. "We don't take baths, being desert folk and all."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Trixie said, covering her mouth in surprise at the camel's confession. "I hope I didn't offend you."

"No offense taken, miss," the camel said good-naturedly. "We've been used to it for as long as we've been living in the desert."

So they ventured further and further into the interior, until at last they came over a hill and saw a truly magnificent sight. A city lay spread out before them, sheltered from the harsh winds by distant mountains. Trees actually grew along the shores of what appeared to be a natural lake, with birds flying to and fro along the banks. The city had two sets of walls, with the outermost being almost like a giant guardrail. The inner wall was high and had numerous towers all along it, with only a few gates allowing passage into the city. Buildings spread far and wide, sometimes a good three stories high: obviously the stonemasons here were well versed in their art. The throngs of the crowds could be seen moving through the streets, almost a solid color of white and yellow clothes.

The palace of the sultan was something else altogether. It looked to be made of gleaming marble, with a dome tipped with what appeared to be a golden point. Marble obelisks littered the area, each intricately carved with numerous signs and symbols. Several pools could be seen, along with what looked to be fountains and even a small forest of tropical trees. There were statues, archways and even an aqueduct. All in all, it truly did look like the residing place of royalty.

The four travelers went with the small caravan down a winding road amidst the hills, the city growing ever closer and closer with each passing minute. Maria looked up at it with a strange expresiion, almost as if she had seen it before.

"It reminds me of the cities in southern Spreign," she told Spike when he asked. "Centuries ago, the Moors emigrated to those lands both building and conquering independent cities. Wars followed, and after nearly a century of continuous fighting, the last were driven from their strongholds. This place is giving me a serious sense of déjà vu is all."

Approaching the outermost gates, Spike and the leader of the caravan, a tall, wispy earth pony, were stopped by three guards. They were zebras, though it was hard to tell under all those clothes and polished armor. It must not have been that hot for them, as they didn't seem to be sweating.

"State your business," the guards said, although from the tones of their voices, they were bored and this procedure was likely standard protocol.

"I am Al Adin," the pony replied. "I come to trade within the city: I have goods for the local merchants." He paused for a few seconds. "You know, Salil, this is really getting old."

"I know, Adin, I know," one of the guards replied. "Standard procedure: sultan's orders. And you, stranger?" the guard asked, turning to face the robed drake. Spike removed his facial turban to speak.

"I am Spike Dragul, here to meet with Sultan Ahmad Rahal, at the request of Princess Celestia, co-ruler of the lands of Equestria."

The three guards looked suitably shocked at Spike's appearance, but became evidently more so at his statement. One pulled out a horn and gave it a great blow, causing the noise to reverberate along the outer walls. Soon other horns, father away, sounded, and more and more continued after.

"You will follow us, your highness," the guards said, making deep bows before the dragon. Said dragon felt like face-palming: oh great, they knew of his royal background. He looked back to see his wives get off their mounts and walk to his side.

"These are my wives," Spike said, noticing the questioning looks the guards were giving each other. They merely shrugged and approached the gate, signaling to some hidden ponies within. Soon enough, the large gate retreated up into the gatehouse, and the guards bid them welcome.

Strolling along, Spike and his wives were immediately confronted by a whole host of banners and guards, their uniforms glinting in the light. Forming a tight cordon around the four visitors, the whole troop escorted them through the streets, pushing back anyone who was dumb enough to try and get close. Nothing truly physical, of course: simply a push here or there to make sure everyone was cut off from the inner circle.

"Do you have any idea what is going on?" Trixie asked, looking around as they walked up the streets.

"This must be how they escort dignitaries through the city," Meia replied, looking around. "It seems to me that this city has more than its fair share of scoundrels." To emphasize her point, several nasty-looking bodyguards moved past the group, surrounding a haughty-looking zebra.

"Whatever it is, there's somepony coming this way," Maria said, pointing up at some step. From the entrance to the inner sanctum of the city, the palace, was a sight unlike any other. A zebra, both short and rather round, bounced down the steps, his large and plushy turban swaying to and fro on his head. He looked to be of a jovial sort, like Santa Paws, the polar bear that delivered presents to all the good colts and fillies at the end of the year on a sleigh pulled by flying walruses.

The guards parted for the chubby zebra, who bowed deeply as he came to a stop in front of the four travelers. "Sir Spike Dragul," he said, his voice containing very little accent. "It gives me great pleasure and pride to welcome you to our fair city, and into my home. Please, if you'll follow me," he said, turning around and walking up the steps, a wave of his hand dismissing the guards.

"Thank you, your majesty," Spike said, following the rotund zebra up the steps and into the palace. Trixie, Meia and Maria were close behind, whispering to each other and pointing out interesting statues or architecture. "I trust you received Celestia's letter?"

"Of course my dear drake!" the zebra replied, his belly barely contained by his clothes. "I never thought I'd live to see the day to meet- nay, house! -a dragon! They are a very, very rare sight in our part of the world, and have been for a very long time. The last time a dragon came by through these parts was a good three hundred years ago!"

"That is quite a long time ago," Spike agreed, knowing perfectly well that the dragon in question was likely still alive. His mind returned to the task at hand. "In her letter, she said you wished to ask me some things about myself? I believe you also wanted some maps?"

"Yes yes, of course!" the jovial zebra replied as they all entered into the palace. Immediately they were surrounded by servants, all bent on catering to their every whim. In a flash, a curtain was constructed and Spike's wives were pushed behind it with shouts of surprise. Within minutes all three emerged after much bickering with the silent servants. Spike's eyes went wide at their change of clothes: from the baggy robes they had bought in the port into... well, nothing important was showing, per se, but it still made his heart beat rather fast.

The sultan continued on talking as if nothing had happened. "-in the gardens. But enough about me: I want to know mroe about you! We'll discuss it during the celebration!"

"Celebration?" Spike asked as his wives were shown several other kinds of silken outfits to wear. They politely refused, half-attempting to cover themselves to not feel so exposed in their new clothes. "What celebration?"

"Why, your arrival here, of course! It's not every day that royalty from a foreign land visits!" the sultan said, bringing them to a large open room filled with pillows and small, short-legged tables. With a clap of his hands, even more servants seemed to spring out of the very walls, carrying with them jugs of water and wine, platters of food, and several more pillows. Soon eough, dancers and jugglers joined the fray, throwing balls through the air and such. It turned into a downright circus, complete with a sword-swallowing unicorn, an earth pony who ate and breathed fire (much to Spike's curiosity), and the dancers...

Well, suffice to say they were zebras, but so exotic-looking in their scantily-clad bodies that Spike had a hard time focusing on the conversation. Well, his brides too had a hard time focusing on him: they were perfectly fine with admiring the other mare's bodies, if feeling a little embarrassed by the clothes they had been forced into and how they compared to the dancers. Trixie especially felt out of place: she had always known she was very pretty, but to see these zebras writhe and dance around her made her feel slightly... out of place.

"Come! Sit with me, and tell me all about Equestria." The sultan lead them through the throng of dancers, who scattered with but a clap of the chubby stallion's hands. All of the others did as well, leaving behind only Spike, his wives, the sultan, and the attending servants.

Spike sat down on a pillow opposite the sultan's many pillows, his wives sitting behind him. He had yet to see any of the sultan's family: maybe they too were waiting for him to summon them? He took a small piece of fruit from a platter, noticing it's incredible sweetness. "So, what would you like to know?"

The sultan plopped down amongst his many pillows, a large platter of fruits and vegetables all to himself, along with a large pitcher of wine. "Everything, Spike: everything," he said, his glee now approaching critical levels. "I have heard some of what Equestria is like, but I wish to know more."

So it was that Spike told the sultan about Equestria, from the history, to the local customs, to the crops grown around the towns, to the royal city of Canterlot, and even what he knew of the princesses. The sultan watched and listened to him in rapt fascination, as if memorizing every single word that came out of his mouth. Spike soon ran out of water to wet his throat from all the talking, and timidly accepted his own pitcher of wine. A servant came up to the short zebra and whispered something in his ear as the sun began to set in the distance, casting its rays through the open archways and into the room.

"That is all very fascinating," Ahmad Rahal said, his own wine pitcher all but empty. "Do feel free to eat and drink to your heart's content: I must depart for a little while. Something has come up that requires my attention."

Spike nodded and drank from a goblet filled with wine, marveling at the exquisite taste. Soon, he began to drink more and more, as if the liquid was something he had been craving for a very long time.

Getting up though not without difficulty, the stubby zebra went off, leaving Spike alone with his wives.

"Seems like a nice enough fellow, though I did not appreciate how he scoffed at the idea of the mayor of Ponyville being a mare," Trixie said, biting into some more fruit. "Biased against females, if you ask me."

"That's likely part of his culture, dear," Meia said, sipping a bit of wine from a goblet she had obtained from a servant. "He's been born and bred to believe that mares are second-fiddle to stallions. Equestria learned long ago both sexes are equal, and as such the country has been far more stable because of it."

"Well, I think he has a rather decent set of manners myself," Maria said, looking over at her husband. "What do you think, Spike?" She saw him looking into an empty pitcher with a strange look on his face.

"Spike?" she asked again. "Are... are you all right?"

The drake hiccupped, a sheepish expression spreading over his face. "The wine is gone," he said with a far-off look in his eyes. "Why is the wine gone?"

"Oh no," Trixie said suddenly. "How much did you drink, Spike?" Her tone sounded rather... on edge.

"All of *hic* it," Spike said, a hiccup interrupting his sentence. "Is there any more?" His wings rustled against his back, the fabric suddenly opening up as he spread them. His empty pitcher droppwed from his hand and rolled away.

"What's going on, Trixie?" Maria said, looking over at the clearly-worried unicorn.

"It's the alcohol in the wine," Trixie said, slowly edging away from Spike: Meia copied her movements. "More specifically, the fruit in the wine. I read that dragons have a high tolerance for most kinds of alcohol, usually the harder the better. But when the drink is made from certain fruits like grapes, there are some... interesting side effects, besides drunkenness."

"So... dragons can't handle wine?" Meia asked as Maria too copied their movements of slowly backing away from Spike. His eyes seemed to swing in different directions as his wings began to flap.

"No, and they can become dangerous: to themselves, at any rate," Trixie said, getting to her feet. "There are tons of reports of dragons crashing through buildings after having wine, and some of those were built from stone. Never mind the sudden regression to childhood behavior and the want for a game."

"So, what do we do?" Maria asked as Spike suddenly rose to his feet. "Do we retrain him?" Judging from the way Spike's body was tensing, that would likely be a very bad idea.

"Move!" Trixie shouted, diving behind a pillar as Spike lifted off the ground with enough force to send a gust of wind flying through the room. Meia did a back-flip from the force into a pile of pillows in a corner, catching Maria after she landed. They watched in abject horror as Spike flew up and out of the room, his spines narrowly missing the uppermost edge of the archway.

"Why can't we just put some spell on him to stop him?" Maria asked, straightening out her mane.

"Because a flying dragon's momentum can't just be stopped like [i]that[/i]," Trixie replied, sapping her fingers to make a point. "My summoning spell would only cause more damage, and if wither of you try anything, he might break something important if his drunken flying is altered: like us!"

"Where's he going?" Meia asked, getting to her hooves with help from Maria. "I can't see him."

Trixie looked out of the archway, only to jump back. "Incoming!" she shouted, narrowly avoiding Spike's tail as he soared back through the door. With several pumps of his wings he floated up to the ceiling, where his nimble hands soon grabbed onto a ledge. Pulling himself up, he sat there like a stone gargoyle, save for the constant stream of giggles coming from his mouth.

"All these pillows," he said, pointing with his tail at the pillows in question. "Are you all having a slumber party? Why wasn't I invited?"

So they chased after him, running around the room like a bunch of schoolyard colts running from fillies that they thought had "cooties". Time and time again he evaded the, sometimes by a few inches. they even tried throwing pillows at him, but he only caught them and threw them back like it was a pillow fight. Giving his drunken state, though, the pillows were zooming like missiles, almost knocking the mares off their feet with the blow. Well, except for Trixie: she had had enough experience with crowds throwing things at her to use her magic to divert the fluffy projectiles away from her and the unborn foal she carried inside her. Then he started calling out to them, calling them funny names like "Twisty" and "Mail-a".

His brides were shocked at his sudden behavioral change: he was acting like a little colt who would not go to bed! "Spike, you need to come down from there," Maria said, softly but firmly, slightly out of breath from all the running. She really hoped he would not go back outside again: it had taken nearly a half hour to get him away from the fountain. "You could get hurt."

"I can't get hurt: I'm Spike the magic dragon!" the drake replied, flying over to another ledge. "See? I can even fly!"

"Yes, yes, of course you can fly: you have wings," Meia said, placing her hand on her forehead. All of a sudden she felt rather sleepy. She turned to look at the pitcher by her feet, a thought striking her. "Um, ladies: what was in that wine?"

"Likely some local fruit that causes drowsiness if drunken in large quantities," Trixie said, suddenly sounding sleepy as well. "We all did drink a lot of it: maybe that's why I feel so tired all of a sudden."

Maria yawned in agreement just as the last rays of the sun went down and darkness began to creep into the palace. Spike, on the other hand, seemed as awake as ever. He wouldn't stop flying from ledge to ledge, calling out like a seagull whenever he did so. Well, a seagull that was currently choking on a crab, perhaps.

"Hope-hopefully he calms down enough to come t-to us," Meia said, nearly falling over onto a pile of pillows. Maria crawled her way over and fell onto her side by the unicorn, muttering something in Spreignish.

Trixie had barely made it to the pillows before she collapsed onto her back, her eyes looking over at Spike. "Come to bed, Spike," she said with a great yawn. "Come... to bed..." Her eyes closed and she began to snore softly, as did the other two.

Spike, looking down on them from his perch, cocked his head to the side like a bird. "Sleepy time?" he asked aloud, noticing they did not wake. "I don't want to sleep: I wanna fly!" With that, he leaped from his perch and flew out of the room, his wings carrying him high over the city within a matter of minutes.

He flew for a good hour, circling over buildings and dodging trees along the lake. After perching atop the very dome of the palace, he finally began to feel tired. Wine works differently on dragons in more ways than one: any side effects take longer to take hold, but they in turn hit harder. So it was that Spike felt so tired, all he wanted to do was find a place to sleep. Floating down, he spied an open window and landed in it, crawling on all fours like some weird dog. He didn't feel like crawling onto the bed on the far side of the room, which seemed to have some pillows tucked under the sheets. Instead, he crawled his way to an opposite bed and lay on top of it, his snores soon filling the room.

Spike awoke the next morning to a scream. Try as he might, he could not raise his head from the... bed?

"Huh?" he wondered, a pounding headache ensuring that his thoughts were scrambled. Why was he on a bed? Hadn't he fallen asleep on some pillows with his wives?

The scream sounded again and Spike was able to open his eyes enough to see the source of the scream. A zebra was sitting up in the opposite bed, her nostrils flaring as she looked at the intruder before her.

Spike waved weakly at her just as the sultan burst into the room with three guards. He waved for the zebra to be quiet, and then looked over to see Spike.

"Sir Dragul? Are you in Asalah's room?" the sultan asked, a very confused tone of surprise entering his voice.

Who? "Uh... yes?" the drake replied, not sure what was going on. Where [i]was[/i] he?

The sultan clapped his hands together and looked over at the zebra, who had stopped her screaming. "Asalah, did anything happen last night?"

"N-no," she said, gathering her wits about her. "I-I just woke up and saw him lying there, in the suitor bed."

The sultan was silent for a few moments, as if trying to collect and sort through all the information he was being delivered. Then, with a clap of his hands, he beamed.

"Oh, this is such wonderful news! To think, I was going to have to give Asalah off to the highest bidder!"

"What?" Spike asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes some more. "What's going on now?"

"There'll be more time to talk later, Mr. Dragul," Ahmad said. "Right now, we have to prepare!"

"Prepare?" Spike asked, confused. "Prepare for what?"

"Why, the wedding ceremony of course!" the sultan said.

"Wedding ceremony?" Spike repeated, not sure if he heard correctly. "Wedding ceremony for who?"

"Why, you and my daughter Asalah, of course!" the sultan replied. "By our custom, any groom who is invited into a home and sleeps in the same room as the one he wishes to marry is, well, married to her! Congratulations!"

Spike's face turned an almost alabaster sheen, whiter than the purest of snows in the Himarelayas.

"WHAT?!"


	16. New and Old Problems

Chapter Sixteen

New and Old Problems

Suffice to say, Spike's other wives were not as happy about the situation as the sultan was. From what he could tell through his pounding headache, Meia was likely to be the most forgiving, though she was still a bit frosty. Still, there was always the chance of angry make-up sex, but from what it seemed, nopony would be getting any nookie anytime soon. Not that he was too upset: he could have sworn he was getting chafed from the "use".

Maria and Trixie, on the other hand, were absolutely livid at his revelation. "The _buck _did you do?!" they had shouted when he had told them the news. "How in the _name_ of Tartarus did this happen?!"

"I fell asleep in the wrong bed," Spike had said simply, holding his pounding head. They were all a bit ornery: they had all drunk freely the night before and the strong wine left a pretty nasty headache.

"See? This is why dragons shouldn't drink," Trixie had said, putting her head in her hands in a mixture of shame and indignation. "I can't believe I'm not married to you for more than a few weeks and you've already gotten engaged to another pony, a zebra no less! What, are we not good enough?"

"Yes, are we not?" Maria agreed, her eyes narrowed into a hard glare that could have sent the fiercest lion running for the hills like a scaredy-cat. "Is three brides not good enough for you, mister dragon?"

"Wha- what are you saying?" Spike asked, anger entering his own voice through his confusion. "What do you mean? Are you insinuating that I don't love you? That I don't care about you?" His belly felt like a volcano that had just sprung to life, threatening to override his civility.

"That depends on your definition of love," Meia replied quietly. "How many more mares will you take with you before this journey ends? Four, five: six, even? Are you so insatiable that we cannot satisfy your innate desire to hoard what you see as valuable?" Oh, that was a low blow, more so than the unicorn knew: she didn't know what greed had done to him, to Ponyville, all those years ago.

Spike's face turned a rather nasty shade of green, an angry green that sent a chill down Trixie's spine. "I would give my life for you: all three of you. Why can you not see that? I did everything I could back in Prance: I fought tooth and claw to stop that baron from laying one finger on you!"

"Because you are a dragon," Maria replied, her voice becoming colder. "That was instinctual, overriding your conscious. It may have been love in your eyes, but to me, it was nothing more than your innate dragon's sense of control that wanted to keep what he saw as his. I was blind, but now I can see what truly happened. We were lucky you didn't turn on us in your anger!" With that, she stomped off, with Meia soon following.

Spike turned to Trixie, his anger, both inner and outer, deflating as the other two left. "Do you feel this way, Trixie?" he asked.

"I... I don't know," she said. "I wasn't in Prance: I didn't see what happened. Though judging from Maria's accounts, you... well, what you did was frightening. I don't know what to think right now."

Spike sighed, something within him feeling very hurt right now. "Then you'd better go: the sultan wanted to 'properly' introduce me to his daughter."

Trixie nodded and walked away, glancing once over her shoulder at the dragon before she followed the path the other two had taken. Spike was now all by himself, and he had never felt more alone than he did at that point.

"Why did this happen?" he asked himself, rubbing his eyes in frustration. "Why did this have to happen? We were happy, all four of us. Then I get drunk and make some stupid mistake, and now I'm getting married again: the fourth marriage within two damn months. I've only been gone from home for two months!"

He said this with a shout, slamming his fist into a wall. For once, the stone didn't crack, but Spike felt a rush of pain shoot in his fingers. Silently cursing to himself and trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his hand, he sighed at the marital problems he was already experiencing, and cursing his luck. He had not asked for this, for any of it: with resignation he turned and went in the opposite direction his wives had gone.

The room where he was to meet the sultan was rather spartan when compared to the rest of the palace. A few doors, one simple round table similar to one he had seen in Spreign, and a few select chairs. They were perhaps the most ornate things in the room, besides the sultan and his daughter. Or at least, what Spike thought was his daughter: she was covered head to hoof in veils and robes, so much so that he could barely see anything about her but her eyes. They were a golden color, or at least were whenever she looked in his direction: she seemed very keen on looking at the floor.

"Mr. Dragul, come in, come in!" the sultan said, gesturing to a seat that sat across from him and his daughter. Reluctantly, Spike sat down in it, feeling very put-out by the way his other wives had reacted to the news.

"You requested my presence?" the drake asked, his voice rather quiet.

"Ah, yes," Ahmad Rahal said, his generous belly jiggling beneath his clothes as he spoke. "Since you have not rejected the offer of marriage and have yet to flee-,"

"What?" Spike thought. "Flee?"

"-you must no doubt be wondering all about Asalah here," the sultan continued, gesturing to his silent daughter.

"Well, yes, actually," Spike said, looking at his folded hands.

"Asalah here is eighteen years old, and more than capable of bearing many good, strong foals," the zebra said, his voice taking on a rather business-like tone. "She is quiet, easy to control and has a very gentle demeanor. She-,"

Spike zoned out as the stallion continued, his inner voice repeating what the sultan had said in disbelief. "_Bearing foals? Quiet and easy to control?_" he thought, a strange anger growing inside of him. "_What does he think she is, a prized cow for a breeding herd? She's his daughter: why in the world would he treat her like this?!_"

"-and will obey any command," the sultan finished, snapping Spike out of his reverie. "Is there anything else you would like to know?"

"No, no, I believe I've heard enough," Spike said, feeling the sickness within him dissipating slightly. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"No, for now, you must go prepare for the ceremony: it will be small and quick. I must talk with my daughter for a few moments."

Spike made to leave, but as he disappeared from view, he stopped, pressing his back to the wall. Leaning his head out, he listened in on the conversation.

"But father, I do not wish to marry so promiscuous a dragon," Asalah said, her soft voice easily heard. She had an accent similar to her father's: very slight, but distinct enough to hear. "He already has three wives, all unicorns: they have magic. What hope do I have of being loved, or even cared for?"

"Daughter, it does not matter that he has three other wives: he will come to love you more than they," the sultan said, before his voice took on a serious tone. "If you do as I have taught you."

"He's so..." the zebra began, before her father cut her off once more.

"I do not care what you think of him: you are to be married to this stranger. If you do not do so, if you do not go through with this, it will shame our family name. What would your mother think of your line of thought if she was still alive?" His voice was strained when he said "mother", as if the word brought him a mixture of deep-seated feelings.

There was a soft gasp. "You... you said you'd never talk about that again after the last time. You promised: you promised!" There was a tone of great pain in Asalah's voice, as if the mere mention of her presumably deceased mother brought her great pain. It was obviously a touchy subject for both of them.

"I am sorry, my daughter, but it is the truth. You must go through with this, for the honor of our family, for my honor. I will not have you disgrace my name and that of your older siblings. They are all married and off on their own, raising families to bring greater honor to the name Rahal. Now go get yourself ready: the ceremony will begin shortly."

There was another soft gasp and a muffled cry as hoofsteps fled the room. The sultan sighed to himself.

"Why couldn't she have been a son? At least then I could connect with her on some level, and she would be far more useful." Judging from the scraping of his chair, he had risen to his hooves: soft clops on the ground meant he too was soon gone from the room.

From his hidden spot around a corner, Spike let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He went on his way, lost in thought.

"_At least the baron was honest about himself,_" he thought to himself. "_This zebra is... is... oh, by Celestia, I don't know what to make of this! What have I gotten myself into? What have I gotten that poor zebra mare into?!_" He continued on his way until he reached his dressing room, where several servants waited for him. They were all mares, but very short ones, for some reason, and a few weren't even zebras.

"Let's get this over with," he said with a low growl, which the servants either ignored or refused to respond to. They quickly stripped him down to his scales, leaving him naked for the first time in what felt like ages. They brought out buckets of soapy water, a rare item indeed in a place so annually dry. With vigorousness they scrubbed him clean, not caring about his wincing as they washed around his scrotal area. They then dried him off with several towels, scrubbing hard enough that if he had had fur instead of scales, some of it would have likely peeled off. Then, with a flurry of movements they dressed him, covering him head to tail in golden robes lined with the finest of silks. His new turban sported several peacock feathers, obviously imports from the Far East. Several rings were placed on his fingers, and a few larger ones, each easily the size of a plate, were fitted on his tail. Several other rings, alternating silver and black, were fitted onto the spines of his head that stuck out of the turban.

Truly, the dragon felt like a gaudy, pompous prince at that moment more than he had ever felt in his entire life: all he was missing now was eyeliner and some nail polish. To be fair, it was likely all part of a local custom, but the poor drake still felt a bit sick to his stomach. It was bad enough that he had been forced into this by the sultan's customs and was reaping the reward of anger from his wives. But he felt absolutely horrible that poor Asalah was being pushed into this with so much expected of her, much of it complete and utter ponyshit. Getting him to love her more than his other wives and to bear him many foals like it was nothing? Was the sultan really that delusional and sexist?

With a small push from the servants, Spike walked through the door to the ceremonial room, his eyes barely visible through the thick golden turban obscuring his face. There were only two others in the room: that fat sultan, dressed in fine clothes gilded with glittering gold and jewels, his turban alone sporting three emeralds and a ruby. Asalah was next to him, covered in jewel-studded blue robes and a rather dark green veil, only her golden eyes visible once again. They were slightly puffy and swollen, as if she had been crying for some time. Spike had no doubt she had been: to have so much thrust onto her, all because he got drunk and flew into her room, gave him a sick feeling in his gut: sincere regret and sorrow.

But he could not back out, he would not: as much as she didn't want to go through with this, Spike sincerely doubted that she could live with the shame if he were to reject her or stop the ceremony from happening. It could break the poor zebra, and maybe, just maybe, she could come to love him after he removed her from her father's side. He was nothing more than a bully in father's clothing: he had her under his hoof in a way that made Spike, a free-living dragon, feel very angry. One was supposed to respect and honor their parents, but what he demanded was just... ugh!

The sultan in question, for once, was very reserved as the ceremony commenced. The two young adults stood side by side, neither saying a word. Spike had the distinct feeling Asalah would be reprimanded if she spoke without being addressed first.

"Do you, Spike, know of the obligations you enter into should this ceremony conclude correctly?" Ahmad Rahal said.

"Yes," Spike said, in disbelief that he could even look this zebra in the eyes. Add to the fact that the zebra's own daughter was two years younger than Spike, barely legal at that, and was being sold off to Spike like some prized cow. He could barely restrain the urge to punch the fat sultan in his fatter face: he was glad his balled fists were hidden by the long sleeves.

"Asalah, do you know of your obligations?" the sultan said, turning to his daughter.

"Yes, father," she said with a bit of strain in her voice: she had been crying, harder than Spike had thought.

"Then I announce you husband and wife. You may leave the palace now, Asalah: your home is now with your husband." With that, the sultan clapped his hands and walked off, some servants springing out of nowhere to attend to him.

Asalah turned to Spike, choking back a small sob as she did so. She was being evicted from her home by the one stallion in her life that should want her to stay. Her dragon husband felt terribly awkward, so much so that he was silent for a few moments before addressing her.

"We'd... we'd best be on our way: I have to find us a caravan willing to take us through the desert," Spike said through his turban, feeling the urge to tear it from his head and throw it out a window. Silently the zebra nodded, sniffling slightly as she made to follow him. He led her out through door and down the hallways until at last they reached the room the rest of his wives had settled down in. A few piles of their belongings were piled up around them, but it was not much: a caravan could only carry essentials and a few extras, not the entirety of a market's goods.

All three unicorns looked up at Spike, curious expressions on their faces as to who this turbaned stranger could be. That was, until he turned and his tail showed, whereupon Maria's and Meia's frosty looks returned and they went back to a conversation they had been having before. Trixie just looked at Spike for a few more moments before sighing and going back to her magical knitting. Yes, knitting: she was already making a pair of foal booties.

"Meia, Maria, Trixie," Spike said, addressing each one personally, though they appeared to ignore him. "This is Asalah Rahal, the sultan's daughter." The lack of response got to him quicker than he would have liked. "Introduce yourselves: I have a letter to write." He stormed off, ripping the turban from his head and flinging it on the ground: he soon disappeared from view.

Asalah looked around and walked over to the turban, gingerly picking it up and dusting it off slightly.

"So, you're a zebra," Trixie said, not looking up from her knitting: it did not sound like a question.

"Y-yes," the zebra replied, her voice faltering a bit. "I-I never met a u-unicorn before."

"Yeah, he tends to favor that kind for a wife," Meia said coolly, her words stinging like an angry nest of scorpions. Inside, she felt sort of sorry for the mare, but she was also competition: appearance of unfriendliness was the best way to test this new one's mettle.

"Oh, I s-see," the zebra said, looking down at the ground. She turned to Maria just as the unicorn looked at her. "I-," she started, but was cut off by Spike's first wife.

"Spare me," the unicorn said in a decidedly chilly tone. "Make yourself comfortable: he won't be back for a while." She was clearly referring to Spike, but refused to say his name. Asalah nodded slowly and sat down on a cushion, curling her legs under her. She hugged herself and let the tears fall silently from her face into the veil. They hated her already, and she needed to befriend them. Oh how she wished they had never come to her home: she felt entirely justified in her mind.

Spike, on the other hand, was staring at the piece of paper in front of him, wondering just what to write. Giving up on any pretense of trying to make it put him in a better light, he began to write.

"_Dear Twilight, we arrived safely in Agrabah and stayed with sultan Ahmad Rahal. Through a series of unfortunate circumstances I wish not to repeat lest I completely lose it while writing this letter, I am now married to who I believe is his youngest daughter, Asalah. We will be leaving soon for the trip through the Samarea Desert."_

_Sincerely, Spike Dragul._"

Awfully short, but it was straight and to the point: now to prepare for the worst. With a burst of flame, he sent the now-rolled up scroll to Equestria, where he calculated it was early in the morning: very early, in fact.

He hadn't made it forty feet towards the wall separating his from the markets before the urge in his belly returned. Opening his mouth, he watched as a scroll popped out. Opening it, he looked over the first few words.

"_Dear Spike, as I cannot fully express my rage in mere words, this letter will now self-destruct in five seconds, coating you with a week-long erection-suppressing spell. Sincerely, Twiligh-,_"- BOOM!

The letter blew up in his face, sending smoke and bits of paper straight up his nasal cavity. He snorted, coughing as he struggled to breath: his passageway eventually cleared up. Blinking as the tattered remnants of the scroll disintegrated in the wind, he repeated the last part of the letter to himself, clean air thankfully returning to his lungs.

"A week-long erection-suppressing spell." Well, it was entirely unexpected, and rather depressing, but it did give him an advantage he did not have before. Now he could at least get to know Asalah before one of them, likely her, tried to consummate their union. She had an unwanted obligation to fulfill, but even though it was unwanted, it was still an obligation.

Walking through the entrance, Spike wound his way through the streets until he reached what he was looking for: the area where caravans stored their goods. It was rather spacious and didn't have many caravan ponies strolling around, so her just began to ask any who looked like they spoke his language. After speaking to several who were decidedly not going in the direction he was, he found Al Adin once again.

"Al Adin, I need your help," he said, the earth pony shaking his hand in greeting. "I need to get to Neigypt by caravan and then into Ethiopia. Are there any caravans you know of going through the Samarea Desert in that direction?"

The pony was silent for a moment before smiling as a thought struck him. "Yes, I do know of one: my brother, Al Abbas. I'll put in a good word for you, though this will not be a cheap request."

"Money will not be an issue," Spike said, rubbing the back of his neck as he remembered the literal tons of gold he already owned. "How soon does he leave?"

"Tomorrow morning, if memory serves me right," the earth pony said. "Good luck to you: the desert is a very inhospitable place, my dragon friend."

"Any advice other than keep my head down and stay with the group?" Spike asked.

"Be sure to stay hydrated and drink plenty of water when you can," Al Adin said. "Dehydration is the biggest threat to anypony who goes through that desert." It was like crossing the ocean all over again: fresh water was the biggest commodity.

"Thank you, Al Adin," Spike said, bowing. "I wish you luck on your own journey."

"Thank you, my friend. You will need more than me, I think." With that, Spike left the marketplace and made his way back up into the palace, the guards letting him go with practiced ease. Upon entering, he found his three-, no, four wives sitting all by themselves with all of their belongings. Judging from the few new things on the pile of items to leave, Spike guessed Asalah did not have many belongings, if any at all.

Sitting down next to her, he noticed something: she was not only all by herself, she was nowhere near the others. "Asalah, is something the matter?" he asked softly.

She sniffled slightly, clearly having been crying for some time again. "T-the others... they hate me."

Spike shook his head. "They don't hate you, Asalah: they're just mad at me."

"T-they are?" she asked, looking up at him. "W-why are they m-mad at you, husband?"

"Because I got drunk last night, which is why we're all in this situation together," he said, sighing to himself. From that day on, he swore off wine, or better yet, all alcohol unless there was no possible cultural means for him to become married suddenly. Only then would he be safe, though if he got drunkenly frisky with his wives, things could be either very bad or very good, depending on how drunk they were.

They were silent for a while, before he spoke again. "For what it's worth, Asalah, I'm sorry. Sorry for this mess, for having to put you and the others through all of this."

"That... that is okay, husband. I'm not mad at you," she replied, her voice sounding a bit better. "I just... I just don't know what I'm going to do. I've lived here all my life, and now that f-father is making me leave with you, I just..." she didn't finish her sentence.

"I know, I know," Spike said, putting his arm around her and giving her a slight squeeze. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Maria shake her head: he retracted the arm. "I don't know what is out there for us, but trust me with this: I give you my word we'll get through this, all of this, together."

"O-okay," the zebra said, her voice sounding a bit less strained. She had a shell around her, a shield she had constructed to try and protect herself from the world. He was going to have to start breaking that, and now was as good a time as any.

They were silent for some more before Spike spoke again, his mind made up. "Asalah, I was wondering: what does your name mean? In your native language, that is?"

"Oh," she said, obviously surprised he took interest in her culture. "Asalah was... it was the name my mother gave me."

Spike's voice lowered to just a whisper. "I know I shouldn't pry, but does the memory of her cause you pain?" This could go from bad to worse if she took this the wrong way.

The zebra's eyes went wide at his question. "How... how did you know?"

"I overheard you and your father talking about her after I left earlier. Mentioning her greatly distressed you both: I was just wondering why."

The zebra was silent for a few minutes before she spoke again, her voice indicating she was on the verge of crying again. "She... she died shortly after I turned nine. It was in the gardens... she loved the plants. We... we were out there, playing in the leaves: chase, I think. There was a web, it caught in my mane... She tried to remove it, but there was a big red spider, and, and..." she was silent.

Spike blinked away a tear that formed out of nowhere. "I'm... I'm sorry." Spiders in this part of Africa were known for being poisonous: only the inattentiveness of a royal gardener could have let one slip into the garden unnoticed. There was a high likelihood all the gardeners had experienced something very bad that day.

"It... it was all my fault," she said, crying into her hands softly. "If I had just... just taken another path, I wouldn't have gotten it in my mane, and then she'd still be... be..."

Spike's arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled him close to her, her face leaning into his shoulder as she began crying a bit more. "Shh, shh," he said softly. "It's okay, it's okay: just cry it out, Asalah." It was fairly obvious that the poor mare had dearly loved her mother, and that her death had changed both Asalah and Ahmad. It was even possible that as much as the sultan seemed to not care for his daughter, the death of his wife only reminded him of his own failures as a husband. So it was that he treated his daughter the way he did, both to drown out his own feelings of guilt and to try and appear culturally "normal" before his constituents. Crying over a beloved was likely seen as weakness, and in a position of power like his, such weakness put his family in danger.

Spike suddenly felt sorry for the sultan, to have to put her through such just to try and keep her safe, but he felt much sorrier for the zebra's daughter. Together, the two of them sat there for a few minutes, the younger zebra sobbing gently into his turbaned shoulder before she stopped once more. It was the few more minutes of silence that Spike found more comforting, personally.

"Nobility."

"I'm sorry?" Spike said, completely caught off guard. "Did you say something?"

"Nobility: my name means nobility," Asalah repeated, her voice sounding better than it had before. "My last name, Rahall, means traveler. I'm a noble traveler, I guess. Mother always did like visiting relatives: perhaps one day she thought I would visit her with my own children in tow."

"It is a very good name, Asalah, a lovely name," Spike said. "You are family now, and I would like to know more of your culture, if that is okay with you." He didn't care if the others were listening in: this was between them. If he had looked back, he would have seen Maria's lip trembling, Trixie wiping some tears from her eyes, and Meia steeling herself to not show any emotion: they had indeed been listening.

"Of... of course, my husband," Asalah replied, her hands pulling him closer to her. They looked no different from any other pony's save for the slight striping in the pelt. He had to admit it was exotic and very attractive-looking, though he said nothing about it.

"Please, just call me Spike," the drake replied instead, letting himself be pulled closer to her.

"Yes, yes, of course," she said softly, cuddling into his shoulder as her voice began to become drowsy: the stress of the day and all that crying had really taken a toll on her energy reserves. "Spike..." With that, she fell asleep, her soft snores muffled by her veil: if it had been visible, her mouth would have appeared to have formed a small smile, likely the first she had made in a long time.

Softly, and discreetly, Spike kissed the top of her veil, where her forehead would be if it were not covered. She was in need of a loving family, and he would do his damnedest to give her that, at least.

She deserved it more than most.


	17. An Oasis of Thought and Action

Chapter Seventeen

An Oasis of Thought and Action

It was early the next morning that Spike led his wives down through the most-empty streets, a few guard serving as protection as they made their way to where the caravans gathered. the sultan had barely bid them goodbye, and he had only nodded in his daughter's direction when they left. Still, it felt rather nice to leave the palace: many awkward memories floating in the air around that place. Within minutes of asking various passerby, Spike had found the earth pony Al Adin and his brother, a younger-looking earth pony with an odd set of scars on his snout.

"Lion," Al Abbas had said simply when he noticed Spike's questioning glance. "I got him back, though." As if to demonstrate, he held out his necklace with a smile: a set of lion claws.

"How long do you expect the journey to take?" Spike asked, worried about how his wives would fare. Asalah had told him earlier that she was used to such heat, but he was not so sure about the others. Add to the fact that Trixie was two weeks short of being two months pregnant, and with her condition she'd have to take it easier than the rest of them.

"Seven week's weeks, give or take," the pony said. "We'll be going along a more-used and supplied path, so essentials like water and food will not be much of a problem. As such, we'll be a bit closer to the Meditermanean Sea than others. That way, if we get into trouble, we will not be in the absolute middle of nowhere."

"Trouble? What kind of trouble?" Spike asked, feeling suddenly uneasy. he swore, if there was some marauding sultan out there now...

"Oh, simple bandits, most likely," Al Abbas said as though it were nothing more than flies. "Too dry and inhospitable for lions or hyenas out here, so the biggest predator you might face will be a scorpion." He paused for a moment. "The bigger they are, the less dangerous they are: the stinger will still hurt, but it will be far from lethal." Oh, sure: that was reassuring to a creature who's hide was nigh but impenetrable. His wives would be the ones in need of more protection. Speaking of which...

"What about spiders?" Spike asked, knowing for sure that Asalah would want to know this particular piece of information.

"Very few, and they come out at night," the pony said, bidding his older brother goodbye. "As such, we tend to sleep off the bare ground, on blankets and such. A warm body attracts all sorts of night creatures, more so than anything else."

"Then I'd better sleep away from others: I give off heat like a furnace," Spike replied, at least partially thankful Twilight's spell was still in effect for another six days. That, and the way they were acting around him, gave him the distinct impression that by the time they wanted to have sex with him, the spell would have worn off long before.

"It gets cold at night in the desert: I can't blame them for looking for warmth," Al Abbas said. "Well, it is time to go. Are your wives all packed?"

Spike turned around to see the last of their goods loaded up onto some camels. His wives were already atop their own camels, each fully wrapped up in white turbans and cloaks to remain cool in the heat. Trixie had her little shady umbrella out again, since she needed it more than the others.

"Yes they are," Spike said, accepting the reigns to his own camel. "We'll travel in the middle?"

"Of course: it is safer that way," the pony said, climbing up onto his own camel. "Come: it is time to go." Pulling a horn from his satchel, the earth pony let loose a long, low note: several responded in kind. The rest of the caravan lurched forward, all of the supplies loaded up and ready to go. As one seething mass, like a massive exodus of birds from a tree, the caravan set out.

There were at least a hundred ponies of all kinds in the caravan: zebras, unicorns and earth ponies being the most common, with a few mules and a pegasus or two. The last ones were likely used to spot sandstorms: they could fly up high enough to see if one was headed their way. All of the ponies either rode or led camels, most of whom were laden with goods and supplies.

The heat of the day soon made the city of Agrabah disappear behind them in a haze, the air feeling like I was going to combust at any moment. To Spike, he felt no different: he had bathed in lava, so this was nothing. Asalah seemed to be faring well, but the other three were having trouble. Trixie was the least troubled of the three, with her umbrella shading her from the direct sunlight, but anypony could tell it would take time for her to get used to this. Meia and Maria were bent over, almost as if about fall asleep.

Spike hurried his camel to Al Abbas. "Sir, if it would not be too much trouble, do you have two more small umbrellas for Meia and Maria? They are not used to these conditions and I fear for their well-being."

"Of course, of course," the earth pony said, pointing him in the direction of a laden camel.

Spike plodded his way over and leaned down, snagging two desert umbrellas from a satchel. Stopping his camel, he let more of the caravan pass him by until he was beside his two wives.

"Here, you should take this: it will help," he said to Maria. She didn't even look at him, or even acknowledge he was even there. She was still angry about his drunken shenanigans, apparently. "Fine, be that way: here," he said in an annoyed tone, leaning over and propping it up for her so that she was in shade. Getting no response other than a huff, he trotted off to Meia. Behind him, Maria looked up from her bent-over posture and sat up straighter, adjusting the umbrella ever-so-slightly.

"This will help, Meia: here," he said, leaning out to handed the umbrella to his second wife. She sat up but did not take it from him, merely staring at him. Before he could say something he'd likely regret, he leaned over further and set up the umbrella over her head. She at least gave him a nod of thanks, though the silent treatment he was receiving from both was getting on his nerves already.

Trotting forward, he pulled up alongside Trixie to check on her. "Are you holding up all right?" he asked.

"Better than I would without an umbrella," the unicorn said, looking up from her reigns. "Thank you, Spike."

"You are entirely welcome, my dear," he replied. "_At least I got one thank-you, so things must be getting at least a bit better_" he added in thought as he pulled away and up to Asalah's side. He didn't say a thing to her: he had done all he could for the foreseeable future and was content to look her way every now and then.

Asalah was wrapped up in her own little world, thinking over everything that had happened so far. She had to admit that Spike treated her far differently than any other stallion she had met, her father included. He had listened to her, had helped her open up to him.

It was a mistake, likely all an act. He had three other wives: surely he couldn't begin to feel the same way for her so soon? It was a front: it must be. Only a fool or a die-hard romantic out of a fable would fall for a wife in an arranged marriage so quickly. She could see it now: she had opened up to him too soon, too early. He now knew her weakness: the memory of her mother and spiders, especially the spiders. She hadn't said anything specifically, but then again it wouldn't take a genius to figure out she held a deep-seated fear of the eight-legged creatures.

She would have to strengthen her shell once more, the wall around her in need of refurbishing. She had let it fall too quick to his invading charm and soft words. She was Asalah, and her defenses would not be so easily breached again.

She mulled over these thoughts, her resolve steeling once more as the caravan traveled. Yes, she would not acknowledge him unless he first acknowledged her. It was the way of her culture: she was subservient, but that did not mean she had to put up with his demeanor as she had her father's. This Spike was... soft, it seemed: he commanded no respect from his other wives. She had seen that clearly enough in the way they were acting around him. A strong husband would have them under his hoof, or in Spike's case claws, eager and willing to do anything and everything he asked. Why was he so different from any other stallion, or male for that matter, than she had ever met before?

She would need to try and make him see the error of his ways. She knew that only the strong survived in a world like this, and as such, until he proved otherwise, it was time for her to start on his 'conditioning'. First things first: she needed to show him she was stronger than she appeared back when she had broken down in his arms.

Spike, meanwhile, was busy mulling over all the things he had sent back to Ponyville, and by extension, Canterlot. He had received a letter earlier that morning stating that the stone foundations to the additional living quarters for Spike and his future family were already being laid into the mountainside, branching off of the main castle in Canterlot. The letter had not been from Celestia, Luna or even Twilight: it had been a simple letter as written by a royal pony scribe. Everypony must have been busy off doing something else, it would seem.

"Sometimes I wonder why I even left Equestria in the first place," he thought, letting a puff of smoke curl out from his mouth. It filtered through his partially-concealing turban, so the cloth soon smelled of it. "I mean, all of this just to gather knowledge for the citizens I will soon rule over?"

He rattled off the things he had sent so far. "Tons of items and historical pieces from Equineland, though Pip will have to be the one to explain much of it. Those numerous things from Portucolt, tons of historical and periodical things from Spreign, goods from southern Prance and all those little things from Germareny and Austria should about do it. After all that stuff from Roam, including the copied letters between some of those old emperors, that leaves all that I recently sent back from the marketplaces."

And to think of how many more countries he had to travel through to get back home. Sudan, Ethiopia, Maredagascar, Saddle Arabia, the Ottomare Empire, Trannsylmania... the list just seemed to go and on forever. Would he ever get home? Just how many wives would he return with, if he even returned at all?

He continued on, only stopping his camel when Al Abbas blew his horn. They had arrived at the first "rest-stop", and just in time, too. The sun was beginning to set and the camels, and everypony else by extension, were tired and thirsty. The stark contrast of the lushly foliaged oasis lake to the harsh rocky desert around it was like something out of a dream. Luckily, said lake was in a large depression, with pillars of stone lining much of the area around them. It was almost like some piece of forgotten history protected by the small canyon they found themselves in.

Spike got off of his camel and went to help the earth pony with the main tent. All of the pieces were unloaded from the camels carrying them, and as such it was not long before a large and expansive tent was raised. It had no floor, of course: it was nothing more than a large burlap-style tarp held up by poles and fastened to the ground with ropes and stakes.

As the skies began to darken from lack of sunlight, the temperature began to slowly but surely drop. Maria had no problem with this. In fact, she had few problems at all. The trip had not been hard so far, the camels made for interesting conversation and were incredibly polite, and she hadn't sweated all that much.

What she did have a problem with, though, was her husband, or more specifically, his noticeable lack of class. She had thought when she had married him he would be the prince he was supposed to be: he had certainly acted like it before and after the marriage, let alone their wedding night. But now... now it was like he had never been raised as a noble! He was acting like some compassionate commoner who had no respect for his heritage? What had brought about this sudden transformation, the Spreignish unicorn had no idea.

Spike was a dragon, a species known for their propensity to hoard. At first she had been thrilled that he was willing to change so drastically back in Prance to save them, but now, in light of this new marriage, and to a zebra no less, she began to see things in a different light. He collected items along the journey and sent them back to his homeland, as it would be infeasible to lug all that stuff around. Sure, he said he was sending it back for the betterment of his subjects, but... what if he wasn't? What if this was just some impulse to collect and hoard items? He had four wives, one of whom was pregnant: surely he would stop at nothing until he had more. Dragons were a fine example of good breeding and had an even greater reputation of breeding anything they could. Spike was likely no different, sticking his massive rod in whatever willing female he could find.

The truth was it hurt Maria to think of her husband like this, to act this way around him. She was not vicious at heart, and to display such coldness for a dragon that she would gladly give everything away for made her feel... stuck-up. No, scratch that: it made her feel pompous, arrogant, and more than a bit selfish. He had given freely to her, had showered her with honest praise and affections for the entire time they had known each other. He had risked life and limb to save her, and yet he remained such a puzzle that it hurt her head trying to figure it all out. But her reasoning was still sound, even if it flew in the face of her emotions. As such, when she went to bed, a few tears were rolling down her face. The frustration within her at her inability to both comprehend and forgive her husband was taking its toll.

As the night continued to encroach on the desert, Trixie lay back on propped-up pillows, her mind swirling with thoughts and emotions. First and foremost, she had been wondering about names for the foal. It seemed that was almost all her mind could focus on these days. Where to send the foal to school when he or she reached that certain age, what they would do in life, what they would look like... She had always wondered what the offspring of a dragon and a pony, unicorn included, would look like. Would he have a horn and be able to do magic? Would she have wings and breathe fire? All of these floated in her head, but they were put aside for a growing thought.

What was up with Spike? She had forgiven him more easily than the others, even if she refused to talk to him for a while. He was likely so absorbed in this new marriage that it would take time for him to come down from his "lofty accomplishment high" that he seemed to be on. She had known him from before, and he still had most of the traits that she remembered: kind, considerate, almost too generous, and undoubtedly friendly. The only problem was...

That zebra! Trixie did not hate her: she had come to realize that much as truth. She did hate the situation the poor mare had been placed in, and from what she had heard the servants talking about, she was only eighteen. She was more than old enough to have foals, but she was still so young to have so much expected of her. It uncomfortably reminded Trixie of Equestria's own past, back before it was first founded. Ponies of higher classes and nobility would shelter and keep their daughters hidden from the public eye until they became of breeding age. Then, often against their will, they would be literally sold off to the highest bidder or to the pony who would bring greater wealth or prestige to the family name. Trixie's own great-great-great-however long ago it was-grandmother had been sold off like this, and it brought a sick feeling to her slightly swollen belly.

But still, a zebra? Spike had three unicorn brides and one foal on the way, and yet it seemed life, fate or whatever you want to call it intended on him having an even larger potential family. This zebra, whom nopony had seen much of beside her eyes and hands, made Trixie feel rather plain. She had that exotic flair to her that would make most stallions in Equestria slobber over themselves like a bunch of fools, but she was reserved, shy: almost borderline cold. Why, Trixie did not know: what she did know was that Spike was far too attractive for the zebra to ignore for much longer. When she did get him in bed, and the unicorn knew she would, the biggest fear Trixie had would be that Spike would treat her differently from the others. He only had so much love to share, and in Trixie's mind, he would dispense more to what he saw as the more beautiful wives. Trixe, as she fell asleep, felt that she would be forgotten, pushed to the side: she did not want that kind of life for her and her foal. To have fallen in love with her and then to fall out of love with her would be the greatest wound Spike could ever inflict on her.

Spike had finished long ago with the tent and made his way to the edge of the camp, carrying only a small blanket so the sand would not get between his scales and his spines. He lay down, too tired to even try and talk with his wives. Well, that and entirely frustrated: exhaustion could be brought on by many means, and that was definitely one of them. They refused to talk to him now, all of them: to somedragon who had lived with the constant contact of ponies throughout his entire life, this sudden paradigm shift in attitude made him feel cold. Twilight's reaction was not only definitely not what he had been expecting, but it was borderline criminal.

As such, he had to send a letter. Pulling a single scroll of parchment form his pocket, he smoothed it out and began to write, the magic in his fire-heated claw working better than any ink.

"_Dear Princess Celestia,_" he began, grimacing as the words came to his mind.

"_As you may or may not have heard from Twilight, I have found myself in quite a pickle, as Pinkie Pie would say. Trixie, the unicorn I met on the way to Manehattan, is pregnant with my foal/hatchling, and as such we are married in Roam. Upon arriving in Agrabah a week later, we were generously treated by the sultan, who lavished us all most generously. Upon consuming the strong wine, I woke up the next morning to find myself betrothed to his daughter, Asalah. The others have not taken it so well and as of right now, I believe my marriages to them could be facing some moderate to severe strain._" Yeah, at the way things were progressing, that was an understatement.

He continued. _"Furthermore, I must thank your pupil Twilight for her kind reaction to this bit of news when I informed her of it. Not only did the returned letter explode in my face like a massive firework, but it coated me in what she called an "erection-nullifying" spell, or something similar. As such, I cannot fulfill my duty to have heirs, Trixie being the exception as she is already pregnant. I shall see where it goes from here, though as it is, I am beginning to wonder why I ever left home, if all I seem to encounter is misfortune. Still, I must think of this as a blessing: maybe now I can further connect with my wives in a way that doesn't have me reducing them to screams of pleasure every time we make love._" There: _that_ should give the princess something to think about at night. Why he included it, he hadn't the faintest idea.

"_Sincerely, Spike Dragul._" He paused for a moment, thinking hard as if anything needed to be added.

"_P.S. I am afraid no more items, whether they be goods, maps or information, will be sent from me for the immediate future. Twilight helped me realize this, so if you chose to inform her of this letter, it would be best if the rest of the Elements of Harmony were around to hear it._"

He looked over the letter again, making sure there were no grammatical or punctuation mistakes present. Satisfied with this sarcasm-laced letter, he breathed a small amount of flame and watched it disappear into the slight desert breeze. He would likely not get an answer as rapidly as he had with Twilight: he would be asleep, anyway.

It was with that he actually fell asleep, his lips were curved into a small, sad frown.

Meia watched him fall asleep from her own propped-up pillows, her mind boiling with conflict. She had no idea what he had written down, but her own mind was too busy focusing on her next move. "A zebra," the cold, calculating side of her mind said. "Unexpected, but not by much. He seems to pick up females wherever he goes. This could prove dangerous to us in the long run: he has two unicorns that could detect our true form if we are not careful."

"But we will be careful," the other side of the changeling queen's mind retorted. "We have always been careful, and right now there are strains in his relationships. We can use these to our advantage, perhaps: our time of the year is fast approaching once more. It will not be long before we are carrying his child."

The thought of a child growing within her caused Chrysalis to stop thinking about plans for Canterlot's new ruler. Instead it filled her with a strange sensation, a feeling she had not known for the longest time.

Hope: pure and simple. She wanted a foal, needed one, and she had never realized just how badly until she was sitting down in the middle of a desert thinking about it. Out of all four of Spike's brides, it was perhaps her that closed her eyes with the closest thing to a smile on her lips.

Meanwhile, back in Canterlot...

Princess Celestia sat by her empty fireplace, going over the news of the realm as the sun lazily made its way towards the horizon. It was only a while after noon or so, but she felt that the day was a beautiful thing indeed. Signing a few contracts needed for Spike's new home, she turned over a new piece of parchment when she felt a familiar tingle in her horn.

"Oh, speak of the dragon," she said to herself with a slight giggle, watching as the smoke condensed and burst into a scroll. Watching it gently float into her lap, she readjusted her position in her chair and opened the scroll.

"Dear Princess Celestia," she began. "_Oh, how formal of him,_" she thought: it was always nice to be addressed as a princess by such a good and dear friend. It made her happy to know that he wrote it as a term of affection and not as a dutiful title.

"As you may or may not have heard from Twilight, I have found myself in quite a pickle, as Pinkie Pie would say. Trixie, the unicorn I met on the way to Manehattan, is pregnant with my foal/hatchling, and as such we are married in Roam." Oh, she smiled at this: he was going to be a father! Truly, there had not been any new royal blood in the family for quite some time, and the princess was besides herself with glee at the prospect of playing with a little foal. She continued to herself, ignoring the small feeling that this letter was not entirely made up of good news.

"Upon arriving in Agrabah a week later, we were generously treated by the sultan, who lavished us all most generously. Upon consuming the strong wine, I woke up the next morning to find myself betrothed to his daughter, Asalah." Wait, he was married again? That certainly surprised the princess, who started to wonder just how much of a charmer Spike was becoming. Four brides in less than two months: that was an awful lot to deal with for one so young and still relatively inexperienced.

She continued, her smile shrinking as she read the words "marriage", "strain", "nullifying", and "cannot fulfill duty". Her eyes had shrunken back into her sockets as she continue, not believing Twilight was capable of such a thing.

Then she read the last part: no more souvenirs or gifts being sent their way. In a strangely calm manner, she folded the letter and tucked it into a pocket, rising to her hooves as she did so. The temperature increased noticeably as she approached her magically-opened window. With a sigh, the princess spread her wings and flew out, slowly at first until her speed increased to that greater of Rainbow Dashes' finest sonic rainboom. She had become a beacon of light shooting through the sky, blazing in intensity as she approached her destination. She would have to remain mostly aloof: she would wait to tell the mares about why her anger was justified. For now, they needed to sort out what she was about to say for themselves: both for the good of their friendships and for the good of their relationship with Spike.

Her pupil had told her that she and the rest of the Elements of Harmony were having a tea party at around that time up in the library. With a crack like thunder she landed outside, causing the whole tree building to shake.

Hearing a few screams and many startled voices, the princess managed to maintain a serene, if rather upset-looking expression when Twilight answered the door.

"Princess!" the purple unicorn said, her eyes blinking in surprise as she saw her sovereign standing before her. "What... what brings you here at this time of day?"

"There is something I need to discuss with you: it is very urgent," the princess said, a tone entering her voice she rarely used.

Twilight felt afraid at that moment: the princess was never this serious. She hadn't even been this serious when the changelings invaded and she did battle with Chrysalis. "Why, o-of course: c-come in," she said, opening the door. The princess nodded as she entered, noticing the Mane Six all sitting around a disheveled-looking table. There were tea cups scattered about, Fluttershy was hanging from the uppermost lamp in fright from the noise outside accompanying Celestia's arrival, and Rarity was busy using her magic to clean up some spilled tea.

"Ladies, I would like to- no, _must_ have a word with you all," she said, seating herself at the head of the small table. Twilight closed the door behind her and returned to the table, unsure of what to say or do.

"I recently received a most informative letter from Spike a few minutes ago," she said, quietly pouring herself some of the remaining tea in an undamaged tea cup.

"You did?" Twilight asked, surprise and a bit of anger showing on her face. "Did he say anything in particular?"

The princess quietly sipped some of her tea. "Well, he informed me of his new journey into fatherhood, something _I_was never informed of," she said, looking as all six mares squirmed uncomfortably.

"Sorry about tha' princess, but we nevah thought you'd want ter find out about the... situation Spike put himself in to get to tha' point," Applejack said, removing her hat in embarrassment.

"I understand your reasoning, even though how Spike became a father means little in the big picture," the princess said, sipping some more of her tea. "I suppose you all know about his fourth bride?"

"The zebra Asalah?" Fluttershy asked, slowly flying down from the lamp after she had calmed down enough. The others shot her odd glances. "What? I-I told Zecora about it, and s-she seemed so happy to h-hear another zebra w-would be coming t-to Equestria. That's why I-I remember."

"Yes, Asalah: the sultan's daughter," Celestia said softly. "Spike has informed me of several developments that coincide with this new marriage."

"And those would be?" Rainbow Dash asked, choosing to hover in place instead of sitting on the floor. She always liked to be on the move, that mare.

"Well, the fractures already forming between him and his wives," Celestia said. "Among other things." She looked at Twilight when she said this, causing the mare to shift uncomfortably.

Pinkie opened her mouth wide to say something, but Rarity stuffed a cupcake in her cavernous maw. "Pinkie, dear, remember to use your inside voice," she said, watching as the pink earth pony simple swallowed the cupcake whole.

"Okey dokey lokey, Rarity," Pinkie said, turning to the princess. "So, is Spike not good enough for them or something? He's too nice to be a big meanie, so... what's wrong?" She actually sounded serious for once, something was rare enough to actually cause Celestia to blink in surprise.

Celestia looked over all of them before looking back at Twilight. "Well, it seems to me jealousy is at play here," she said. "Three wives might sound like a lot to some, but to a dragon, it is actually several short for the norm. Of course, the norm being different for every dragon, but I digress. They view each other as competition, most likely, with Meia and Maria being the ones he has been through the most with. Trixie will obviously be close to the top, as she will be giving birth to his first foal. Asalah is a newcomer, and they view her as such. It is entirely possible they blame Spike for his predicament of having four wives, instead of realizing other factors at play." She was silent for a while before speaking again.

"Twilight, would you care to explain to the others what Spike will now do since you sent him your last letter?" The unicorn looked confused, but became noticeably pale.

"W-what d-d you mean, princess?" she asked.

"That spell you cast over him?" Celestia said, all traces of formality gone as her words took on a rather thunderous tone. Fluttershy squeaked and threw herself under the table, as did Pinkie Pie.

"T-the spell?" Twilight repeated. "Oh, t-that s-s-spell," she said, paling even further. "I sorta, kinda, maybe, just cast the littlest... erection-impairing spell on him."

That last part came out as a rush, but every pony gathered could hear it just fine. "Twilight, why on Earth would you do that?" Rarity asked, her voice sounding angered beyond normal comprehension. "That is downright despicable!"

"That is not all," Celestia said. "Now that Spike cannot fulfill his royal duties of having heirs-," her eyes zoomed in on Twilight's almost white face: "- of any kind, he will not be sending anything our way for an indefinite period of time."

All five other ponies looked at Twilight with ill intent.

"Yes, it is true, and I heard there was so much more in store for you all," Celestia lied, knowing it was time for her to leave. "The animals of the Serengeti plains, the newly-discovered apples of Maredagascar, the silks and party styles of Istanbull, the tombs of the southern Neigyptian Pharaohs..." she stood up to leave, each word further enraging the ponies behind her.

"Oh, and I almost forgot: the massive libraries of Baghdad."

Twilight turned to the retreating princesses' form so fast her head might have spun off if she hadn't stopped. "The what?!"

"The libraries of Baghdad," the princess repeated. "I heard they were the most extensive in the world, greater than anything that has existed. Oh, all of those spells, the knowledge...what a shame." With that, she closed the door behind her and flew off.

Twilight turned to her friends. "Now girls, I-I know what this looks like-," she began, but Dash cut her off.

"GET HER!"


	18. Blood on the Sand

Chapter Eighteen

Blood on the Sand

Spike awoke early the next morning to find little traces of exoskeleton on his chest. Apparently he had been warm enough during the night to facilitate the shedding of several scorpion's skins, though from the looks of things they had long since vanished back into the rocky holes they resided in. Brushing the fragments off, he arose and stretched, seeing several others doing so in the middle of the gathered caravan. He was not the only one to get up early in the morning: perhaps it was a skill passed down to those who had to trek through places where an early start was the best start.

Soon enough the band was on the move again, everything from the night before all packed up. Still his wives refused to speak to him, besides Trixie, that was, and the dragon grew increasingly frustrated. It was the kind that did not show on the outside of one's self: it was the kind that buried deep within, building and building like gas trapped in a volcano. All it needed was a trigger, and it would erupt with devastating force.

So it was like this for the rest of the day: nopony would talk to him and he kept second-guessing his decisions from whence he had left Canterlot. It was all he could do, as the journey was mind-numbingly dull and his wives seemed to not want to give him any attention.

"Should I have gotten on that exact train?" he wondered as the camel beneath him plodded on. "I would never have met Trixie and she would still be single. Not pregnant either, I imagine: kinda hard to do so if she wasn't seeing anypony at that time."

Then he thought to the trip across the Barnlantic. "A different ship and I'd have never met Meia," he thought, grimacing slightly. "Then she might have died one of two ways on that ship: blunt-force trauma or drowning. For once, I am glad I actually made that decision."

Then came Spreign. "Going there through Portucolt from Equineland was the perfect example of a detour becoming a disaster," he muttered to himself as the sun moved across the sky. "I could have just crossed the Equinish Channel and made my way through northern Prance and into the Neightherlands, avoiding that blasted baron to the south. But then what of little Pierre? Without my doing, he'd likely still be in there, or worse..."

The truth was, Spike did not regret coming on this journey, nor did he regret meeting and marrying the four mares he had. He just felt so tired from all of the instances of sudden change that had happened so far: the baron in France, Trixie's pregnancy bomb, the sultan marrying him off to his daughter. It just all seemed so fast to him: nothing like earlier, where he at least got to know Meia and Maria for who they were, or so he thought. He still needed to learn more about Trixie, and if anything, meet her and Meia's parents.

The drake was tired, achy, and all sorts of frustrated when they stopped to make camp in a small sheltered valley. He immediately struck up a conversation with the caravn master, anything to keep his mind off of his own problems. Eventually, though, there was nothing to talk about with Al Abbas, and Spike soon lacked for company of a closer sort. The natural stone faces of their site were not as high as the night before, but it would have to do: an oasis was not something one could so easily pass up in a desert.

Spike rolled out several large blankets for his brides, receiving only a thank-you from Trixie when he did so. Maria hadn't even looked him in the eye when she lay down, and Meia was off in her own little world. Asalah would just stare at him, whether or not she knew he was looking back. She was scrutinizing him, judging him silently.

He had had enough: it was time to talk this out. "Listen," he said, sitting down on a large blanket so that he was facing all four of them. "I know several of you don't want to talk to me. I can understand that. I also know one or two of you think me to be soft, or weak, or different from what you think is your "perfect mate" is," he said, drawing curious glances from both Maria and Asalah. That was unexpected: what had brought about this chain of thought?

"The truth is," Spike said, steeling himself so he wouldn't lose it. "My nobility was only thrust upon me less than three months ago. Before that, I grew up alongside the Elements of Harmony, the six living representatives of the six parts of friendship. I was... well, I was raised both in royal audience with the princesses and out in a town called Ponyville. Trixie here," he said, nodding in her direction "knows all about that place."

He continued, though it didn't seem like any of them were going to say anything. "I'm not the strongest dragon because I wasn't born the strongest. I am not the weakest dragon simply because I'm not the strongest, either. I am me, and though you may not accept this at first, I cannot truly change who I am. I do not expect any of you to change so drastically that you become a stranger to yourselves, to your true nature."

Meia shifted slightly at this, as if uncomfortable, but again she remained silent. The drake continued.

"As things stand, we cannot keep going on like this. I cannot stand this silence and these cold, hard stares. I need to know what you feel, and why you feel it, so I can at least try to make amends of some sort. Otherwise... I don't know how this will turn out."

At this sort of revelation, Spike expected some sort of apology, even some recognition.

Nothing: a big fat load of nothing. Trixie was knitting again, probably to keep her mind off of what he had just said. Meia looked at her hooves, unwilling to meet his eyes. But Asalah and Maria: they merely rolled over and looked the other way, as if his confession and quest for closure were unimportant.

Suitably, this made him mad. No, scratch that: it made him _furious_. They had become impossible to communicate with: they were driving a wedge between themselves and him and he couldn't seem to do anything to stop it! Why were they doing it? Was it to spite him? Did they _want_ to make him mad? Without saying another word, he got up and walked off, needing some more time alone. He disappeared from sight soon after, the light of the lamps giving the area an ethereal glow as the evening encroached on the land.

"I think he means it," Trixie said quietly, looking up from her handiwork to make sure he was really gone. "I think he truly means it, with all his heart."

"I am sure he does, just like he meant sorry when he married for a fourth time," Maria said, not looking at the others as her unspecified accusation was sent in Asalah's direction. Her voice was as cold as it had been before, though there was a tone of hurt that had not been there before. Spike's words rang true, and they did indeed sting.

"I did not ask for any of this," Asalah said, rolling to face the others, her features still covered by her robes. Seriously, she never took them off: did she have something to hide? "I was content in my home, with what remained of my family."

"But were you happy?" Meia asked, looking over at the zebra. She appeared to have been wholly unaffected by Spike's plea for forgiveness and the resulting fracturing of his emotions. "Were you truly happy, Asalah?"

"... truthfully, I do not know," she replied, looking down at the sand in front of her. Lazily she began to draw some odd symbols into the sand with one of her fingers. "I loved my father: I still do. Only... I cannot understand my husband."

"Honey, neither sex can understand the other," Trixie said. "We are as confusing to them as they are to us. It's all part of the great circle of life or something along those lines."

"But that is it: I cannot understand why he acts the way he does," Asalah said. "He is a dragon, a creature of legend in many parts of the world. Yet he does not command respect from anyone, least of all us. Father would have had his wives beaten for such impudence." There she was, bringing up dear old dad again.

"He was raised differently than you, Asalah," Trixie said. "Back in Equestria, stallions and mares have the same rights, the same basic roles in society. There is no clear division of who does what: Spike was raised to not be ruled by petty emotions and a sense of obligatory honor." That was perhaps a stinging jab at Asalah's culture, but the zebra did not say anything in return: she was thinking on it. Trixie looked over at Maria. "What about you, Maria?"

Maria let out a snort. "I'll believe him when we need rescuing again and he proves to me that he can control his emotional outbursts," the Spreigninsh noble said. "That dragon is too dangerous to be just let around on the loose whenever he gets like that. If we cannot at least convince him to be stronger for us, then we must at least try to make him see the error of his ways."

"And what errors would those be?" Meia asked, a little heat entering her voice.

"He did not consult with us what we are going to be doing, for one," the Spreignish unicron replied, even though she knew the argument was a weak one. "We are his wives, and I thought he would treat us as such. I believe he has a penchant, whether intentional or not, for saying exactly what we want to hear to get our compliance. He needs to learn self-control, and also to avoid wine, for starters."

"I don't think we'll have to worry about his emotions running rampant," Meia replied, hoping to not have the conversation devolve into accusations and shouting. "We're safer now than we were back in southern Prance: much safer."

"Oh, I don't know about that," a calm voice said. All four mares turned to see a masked figure covered in sand-colored robes standing in front of them.

"Who... who are you?" Trixie asked, backing up into the side of the canyon wall with the others.

"The stallion who's going to fetch a hefty sum from selling you four," he replied. "Don't even bother screaming: your guards are all unconscious." He pulled a wicked-looking blade from within his robes and brandished it, the sight of the gleaming metal paralyzing the vocal chords of the four mares.

Not five minutes earlier, Spike found himself near the edge of the oasis, his mind swirling with anger and frustration. He was giving them all he could, baring his soul to them, and yet... they remained distant, aloof even! It was enough to make him want to pull his spines out of his back and toss them into the vast expanse of sand around them. He turned his head this way and that, as if trying to shake the anger building up inside of him. All of his emotions were tied together, as was the unfortunate way of his people. Luna had informed of such: a dragon's well-being was intricately tied to its emotional state. _That_ was why he had grown large when he got greedy: the bigger he had gotten, the more likely he could protect his treasure from those who wanted to stop him. _That_ was why he had grown so fierce when his wives had been in trouble in Prance: it was so he could protect them better than he could in his natural state. Every single emotion of his had a different release, a different trigger.

The princess had always told him to remain calm as much as he could, since it took years for a dragon to master the impulse to hoard, to breed, or to fight, among other things. Spike had not had any dragons to teach him such control, and right now he really wished he had one to talk to him about it all. It was just... maddening, that he couldn't connect with his wives. He knew marriage would never be an easy thing, but four marriages was beginning to feel too much for him to handle.

As he turned once more to try and clear his head, his vision was greeted by a large club swinging into view. Thankfully, it did not hit him in the face: instead, it crashed right into his chest, sending him sprawling. He wheezed slightly, the air trying to return to his lungs.

"I told you to knock him out! If he's dead now, we'll have to loot him and leave the body for the vultures!" a voice hissed. "A dead prisoner is worth nothing!" Blinking up through suddenly orange-tinted eyes, Spike saw the two robed stallions standing over him: bandits. Oh, _Tartarus_ no: they did _not_ just sneak up on him and try to knock him out.

"Don't think of calling for help: the rest of your caravan's guards are unconscious," the one said. "They're more valuable alive than dead."

Spike opened his mouth, his teeth feeling longer for some reason. Something inside him had snapped.

"I said do not speak!" the one with the club hissed, swinging the wooden tool down towards Spike. Quick as a flash, Spike caught it in one hand: with a yank, he pulled it out of the surprised bandit's hands. With a thrust of his wings through his robes, Spike rose from the ground and was on his feet within a split second. The startled bandits jumped back, going for weapons in their robes.

Spike glanced at the large wooden club in his hand, an obviously old weapon kept dry and hard by the desert heat and low humidity. It had likely been used for such a long time that it was as hard as a bronze war club, or perhaps even a steel hammer.

With one clench of his hand, it shattered into powder and splinters. The two bandits gasped as his now fiery-orange eyes looked into theirs.

"Big mistake," he said, his voice descending into a growl. The two didn't even have time to scream before he was upon them, his hands closing around their jugulars like steel traps.

There were two quick snaps and the bandits ceased to struggle. Dropping them like garbage, Spike moved back into the camp with a purpose in his stride and fire in his eyes. Not again: nopony was going to be taken prisoner again on his watch.

Four pairs of eyes looked at the bandit as more and more of his associates filtered into the camp, until there were so many gathered around it was hard to tell who was who. All around them they had brought the other members of the caravan, trussed up and gagged.

"That should about do it," the apparent ringleader said, eyeing the four mares with disinterest. "I wonder what we will do with you four?" He didn't sound nasty: it was the genuinely intrigued tone of somepony who hadn't made a decision yet.

A bandit rushed up to his side: he whispered for a short while, the bandit's expression changing from disinterest to outrage and confusion.

"Snapped necks?" he repeated. "But who-?"

He never got the chance to finish his sentence as a scream erupted from the far side of the group. Watching in horror, one of the bandits rushed past the others, ablaze as he burned. His robes had caught fire somehow, and yet it was an unnatural fire: it glowed a greenish hue. He fell over and thrashed some more until the smell of burning hair and flesh pervaded the area. The fellow then ceased to move: he was clearly dead, his burned features twisted into a cooked mask of pain.

Another scream and another burning bandit ran past, making it to the wall farther down the canyon before falling over, smoldering like a campfire. All around the camp more and more of the bandits started to move, looking for whatever was causing this.

"Oh no," three of the mares said at once. Asalah, on the other hand, looked around confused and rather scared.

"What is it? What is going on?" she whispered.

"It's Spike," Maria hissed. "He's transformed again!" Trixie nodded: she knew dragon fire when she saw it.

"No, this is something different," Meia said, looking around as another scream spilled into the night air. "If he had changed again, don't you think he'd have just wandered into their midst and starting beating them all senseless? You know, like he did in Prance?"

"So then what are you saying?" Maria hissed back. "Has he gone full-blown monster or something? He's rarely ever used fire except for sending messages and starting campfires!"

"What are you four going on about?" the bandit leader said, suddenly remembering they were there. "What is going on?"

"Uh," Meia began, only to have a shape fall down at their hooves. They shrieked and pressed themselves further into the rock, trying to get as far away from the...

It was a bandit all right, his face twisted into a scream of pain through his turban. However, something was missing, something rather vital in determining how he could have died.

His lower half was gone: it looked like it had been torn completely off.

The bandit leader almost puked at the sight of the blood leaking out into the sand. "Find whatever is doing this and kill it! I want its hide!" he shouted. More and more screams began to light up as whatever it was kept striking, fading away before it could be found again. It moved like a ghost among them, the lamps flickering as it ran past.

A bandit screamed as he was dragged behind a tent, his scream ending with a horrible crunching noise. By the time others got to him, his head had been crushed flat and the creature- no, the _ghost_, was nowhere to be seen. It was like the darkness of the night had spawned a creature with an other-worldly sense of destruction.

"What in the name of Tartarus is it?!" the head bandit shouted, just as another piece of a bandit flew through the air. It was a leg, and it smacked the head bandit in the groin, causing him to retch and howl in anger. More screams erupted from the camp as lone bandits were picked off one by one, until the remaining few stood by their leader.

A growl emerged from behind one of the tents, causing all of the bandits who had gathered around their leader to look over in fear. Lions could not do this: manticores would not. Just what was thing terrible creature they had stumbled upon?.

Stepping out from behind the tent, his clothes soaked in blood and covered in what could only be entrails, stood Spike. And yet, it was _not _Spike. Spike did not have blazing orange eyes or a maw sporting large fangs. He also decidedly did not have talon-like claws that would make a prehistoric dinosaur green with envy.

"Get him!" the bandit shouted, causing several of his fellow bandits to rush towards the dragon. Perhaps they hoped to be able to overwhelm the dragon with brute force.

The monstrous drake didn't make a sound as he too moved. The first one to reach him didn't even have time to swing his sword as Spike grabbed him by the throat and leg. In one swift motion, he lifted him high over his head and brought him down, moving a knee up at the same time. A sickening crack echoed throughout the area: Spike threw the paralyzed bandit down on the ground. The next bandit was grabbed by the throat and the sickening crunch that followed meant his neck had been snapped like a twig: he too was tossed aside.

The dragon hadn't even broken his stride. Three more bandits rushed him, only to be met with a wall- no, a geyser of flame erupting from Spike's snarling mouth. They fell to the sands, clawing at their clothes, trying to get them off. Spike merely stepped over their charring bodies as their struggles ceased.

The bandit leader had only a few left beside shim, and most fled, only to be shot in the back by fireballs erupting from the angry dragon's mouth like heat-seeking missiles. They fell, burning in the sand like wax dripping from a candle.

"Get him!" the bandit leader said to his final compatriot, who had a wild and crazy look in his eyes. He rushed the blood-drenched dragon and swung his sword, only to slice through air. Looking in confusion, he turned to see Spike's jaws close in around his lower arm. He screamed as the dragon's immense bite force penetrated past the bone and cut the arm off completely, leaving a profusely bleeding stump. The bandit ran off, his blood squirting through the air as he ran: he didn't go far before he collapsed.

The dragon turned to the last bandit, the former leader of the slain bandits strewn all over the camp. Some had had their backs snapped like twigs: others, their necks. Many had been burned alive, their clothes highly flammable and serving almost like wicks in the candle of their flesh. The rest had been torn to pieces, often being bitten to death.

"Come n-near me, and I-I'll kill them!" the bandit leader shouted, rushing towards the four mares in hopes to ward off the demon. In the blink of an eye Spike was between him and his own wives, his body a blur as he moved. Reaching up, he grabbed the bandit by the shoulders and pushed together, effectively locking his arms at his sides. He squirmed and kicked, but the desert thief could do nothing as the dragon pulled him closer to his face.

"No," the dragon grumbled simply, his eyes ablaze and his voice filled with a savagery that not even the fiercest manticore could hope to emulate. Opening his toothy maw, he clamped his jaws down on the throat of the bandit, who's scream was cut off by a gurgling noise. With a great wrenching motion, Spike tore his clamped jaws away from the bandits, gore and flecks of flesh caught between his teeth as he did so. The bandit died quickly, gurgling as he did so.

Spike licked his blood-encrusted teeth and threw the bandit to the ground, his head turning to see several of the unconscious caravan members coming around. He turned to his wives and saw the fear in their faces, the sheer abject terror of being in the presence of a creature born from the nightmares of nightmares.

"Now you know," he said quietly, taking off his blood-soaked outer clothes.

"K-know what?" Trixie asked, her mouth barely working.

Spike looked down at the ground, nudging the dead bandit with his foot. "Now you know why I cannot always be the biggest, strongest dragon out there. If I were to go down that road and permanently become what you had wanted, it would destroy not only me, but you as well. Such ferocity, like what you have seen here, is nothing new to my race, my wives. It is something within all dragons, just waiting to be let out. I let it out tonight to save you, once again, and to show you the price I pay to be kind, to be compassionate. If I were to do this on a regular basis, to gorge on the flesh of my enemies and to bathe in their blood, I would grow to crave it, to need it."

He took a turn to look each in the eyes. "Nopony would be safe. I would have to be hunted down, slain by an army of enchanted knights, as have other dragons needed to be in history, or so I have been told. Do you understand now the price I truly have to pay? Do you understand now why I try to stay as happy as I can be?"

They said nothing, but not out of coldness of anger: they were silent out of pure fear. He knew this and did not expect them to respond.

"Help untie the others: I need to go wash this off," he said, walking over to the wall. Spike looked back in curiosity. "Why didn't the three of you use any magic?" he said, referring to his three unicorn wives. They said nothing: obviously they had not thought to do so and were likely terrified beyond the coherent realm of concentration to do so at the time. Digging his fingers into the wall and shaking his head, Spike climbed up and over, the bloody clothing still binding his wings against his back scales. He disappeared over the top and was gone.

It was then that three of the mares vomited on the spot, both from the smell of the burning bandit fur and the scene they had just witnessed. And nerves: definitely nerves, as what Spike had said seemed to have touched a core deep within them all. Meia apparently remained wholly unaffected, though inside she felt she would faint if she took another step. All that power, that ferocity... to a changeling, it was like an concentrated aphrodisiac.

"I... What have I gotten myself into?" Asalah asked as she wiped her mouth with a sleeve.

"You got what you wanted," Meia said, looking from Asalah to Maria. "Both of you did: a big, demanding, controlled monster who won't be taking shit from anypony anymore."

"But... but how can you remain so calm?" Trixie asked even as the other two looked at Meia. "He's... he's such a beast!"

"Dragons are indeed powerful creatures, but at the basic level they function the same way any creature might. They have basic needs and wants, and right now, Spike wants our forgiveness," Meia said. "Right now, he's likely burning his clothes and crying out in the sands."

"But... but why would he be crying?" Maria asked, her breath slowly returning to her.

"Because in his heart, Spike is not a monster," Meia replied, glad her disguise dulled her need to feed of off love. Right now, if she could feed off of anguish, she would black out from the amount pouring out of Spike. "However, something just as bad resides in his mind: he thinks he is a monster. Whether or not he believes this is irrelevant: he is afraid of just what he is capable of. He controls himself, or tries to, anyway, at all times, so this "monster" doesn't emerge. He's afraid he'll hurt somepony close to him, or worse, if his emotions get out of hand. Haven't you noticed how calm he tries to remain? Especially after Prance? He never raised his voice to any of us once!"

"Well, I d-did notice a bit," Maria said, sniffling slightly as she realized just how wrong she had judged her husband. Judging from Asalah's frantic movements of wiping her eyes, she was having the same thoughts too. "But... he still needs to confide in us..."

"He'll confide in us when we have confidence in him," Meia said. "As of now, he feels like he's lost our trust, and in his male dragon's mind, we'll never bear his foals because of it. I know it sounds simplistic, but deep down, I believe that is what he wants the most."

"To breed us?" Trixie asked incredulously. That _did_ sound rather ridiculous...

"No: well, yes," Meia replied, sighing. "I meant the part about foals: I'm not sure if you noticed or not, Trixie, but he's been very careful around you. You are carrying his foal inside of you, after all. I can't even imagine what he would do if some pony threatened you, of all of us."

"I..." Trixie began before something clicked in her head. "We need to make it up to him." Well, that was a quick segue.

"But... but how?" Asalah asked. "I... I think I understand where he is coming from now, but... what can we do?" Inside she actually felt rather bad. She had this dragon pegged all wrong: he showed compassion because his fierce and commanding side was too powerful and dangerous to wave around like a normal pony's. To compare him to a stallion was not only borderline cruel, it had been downright ridiculous. Spike was a dragon: she should have known he'd act different from ponies. Now she wanted to make it up to him in some way, any way, really...

"Well, there is always the tried and true method," Meia said, looking from Maria to Asalah and back.

"Yes? What would that be?" Maria asked. Her own thoughts coincided with Asalah's: Spike could not always be the biggest or the strongest. If he was, then he simply wouldn't be Spike anymore. He'd be a stranger, not the dragon she had fallen head-over-hooves for back in her home. Why did her pride have to be so difficult to control sometimes? SHe should have comforted him, consoled him when things had gotten out of hand back in Agrabah. But all she done had become cold and uncaring, two things she hadn't even known she was capable of. Right now, with a horrible feeling of guilt pervading her mind, she wanted to make it up to him: all of it.

"Think back to southern Germareny," Meia said simply as the rest of the caravan freed itself. It seems they had not needed help getting out of their bonds.

Maria's eyes went wide. "Oh," she said quietly. "Oh, I see."

Asalah looked between the two unicorns. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Meia looked her right in the eyes. "Asalah, get ready: tomorrow night is going to be like none before," she said.

Meanwhile, off in the sands a ways from the camp, Spike kneeled in the coarse material, his mind and eyes returning to normal. He felt... sick. He had never felt such unbridled rage and anger before. What scared him the most was not that he had become a creature once again: what was the scariest part was that... he found it enjoyable. Spike had never before tasted the flesh of another creature and right now, he felt like would throw up. Those bandits... sure, they had been no good, but what he had done to him, the manner in which he doled out punishment...

It was scary, beyond any fear he had ever experienced before. All over him their blood and entrails draped across his clothes. He needed to be rid of them: now. With a great puff, flames washed over his body, hot enough to completely consume the evidence of his unbridled ferocity. Ash fell to that sands as he sat there, his wings flexing in the loght of the stars. He needed time to think, and hopefully his wives wouldn't abandon him out of sheer fright when they saw him again.

So he lay there, kneeling in silence as the night drew on. He didn't even hear the hoofsteps behind him until a robe was lain over his shoulders.

"I know you weren't your true self back there, Spike Dragul," Al Abbas said, sitting next to the dragon.

"How can you say that, after seeing what I've done?" Spike asked quietly, looking over at the scarred earth pony.

"The desert is a harsh place, sir. I doubt any of us would be going to sleep this night with our companions if those bandits had had their way," he replied, looking up at the stars. "From what I heard, they were going to sell us off as slaves: a most ignoble destiny, my dragon friend."

Spike was silent for a few more minutes. "How are the others doing? My wives, that is?"

"They await your return," Al Abbas said simply.

Spike was surprised at this: surely they wouldn't want to be anywhere near him. "Truly? After all they saw me do?"

"Truly," the earth pony said, rising to his hooves. "It would seem you have renewed their faith in you." He waved his hand when Spike opened his mouth to question him. "I overheard your conversation earlier, as well as theirs right before the bandits struck. Two of them seemed to be unable to accept that you can't be that... beast, all the time. I think now they realize why."

"Thank you, Al Abbas," Spike said, looking up at the moon in a silent thank-you. "I'll... be there in a bit."

"Do not tally _too long_, my friend. Four lovely wives won't wait forever, you know." With that, the caravan master left the dragon in the moonlit sands.

Spike rose to his feet a short time later, curling the robe tight around him. Walking back the same way Al Abbas had, he found the caravan asleep. Judging from the light of the lamps, he had been gone for quite some time.

Working his way over to his own area, he found all four of his wives fast asleep. in silence, he quietly kissed each on their forehead, earning soft murmurs from each. Walking over to his own secluded spot, he lay down and closed his tired eyes. The revelation of his wives' forgiveness did wonders for his troubled mind: he slept peacefully that night.


	19. Four's Company

Chapter Nineteen

Four's Company

"What do you mean, 'no'?" Meia asked, looking at Spike in confusion as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. The sun had risen some time ago and they were all done packing: they were only waiting for the okay to leave from Al Abbas.

"I can't do it," Spike said. "I can't do what you want of me. I am sorry." He sounded entirely sincere about the whole matter, which was the scariest part of the whole conversation.

"What, are we suddenly not good enough for you?" Maria asked, a tone of anger entering her voice once again. "Have you grown bored with us?"

"Far from it," Spike replied, keeping his cool with some visible effort. "When I wrote back to my home after marrying Asalah, the receiver of my letter thought I was thinking with my "second tail", so to speak."

"And?" Trixie asked, wondering just what had Twilight done. She knew it had to be Twilight: nopony else would think of jinxing Spike for what they thought was a simple problem of miscommunication.

"She cast an erection-nullifying spell over me with an exploding note," Spike said.

"What?!" three of the mares gasped in anger. Asalah was silent: she was beginning to wonder just how psycho this "friend" of Spike's really was.

"Well, how long does it last?" Meia asked, clearly anxious to "apologize" to her husband for her earlier behavior. Man, going so long without a ride on his "love train" sure did make her want him all the more. What, was she becoming a sex addict now, and the only cure for her affliction was some hot dragon boning?

"She said a week, and that was around four days ago," Spike said. "So if anything "good" is going to indeed happen and these "apologies" are going to bear fruit, you'll all have to wait another seventy-two hours or more: I'm not exactly sure how exact this spell is." Once again, the truth was bleeding through his words, an unfortunate problem when a solution to another problem was staring him in the face.

"Oh, when we I see Twilight next, I'm gonna jinx her quills to write backwards," Trixie muttered, thinking of the worst things she could do to that purple unicorn. "Or maybe de-alphabetize her entire library. Or _maybe_ turn her cutie mark into a picture of an ass, because that sure an ass move." Trixie sure did sound vengeful: maybe it was the hormonal fluctuations within her.

"I think her friends may have beaten you to that, Trixie," Spike replied. "I sent a message to Celestia informing her of that development, and as such I said I wouldn't be sending anything else their way for some time. I'm not exactly sure if I'll send something at all anymore, to be honest."

"You did say you promised you would," Trixie reminded him, thinking back to an earlier conversation. "I thought dragon's had some sort of code of honor?"

Spike sighed: she did have a point there. "Fine: it'll be a compromise of sorts. As soon as we're out of the Samarea Desert, I'll send something back. Is that good enough?"

"I should think so," Meia replied. She saw a flag waving off in front of the caravan. "It is time to go, I believe: these are going to be three very long days."

Well, she was right in a sense: the first day wore on like it would never end, as if time itself had been caught in a loop and everything blended together in a monotony that scorched the body and frazzled the brain. Through the sand and the rocks they traveled, the air oppressively hot and dry from the sun's merciless rays. Every stop at an oasis was like a miracle unto itself: time spent away from one was torture that put the baron's dungeon to shame. Who needed stone and iron bars when all that one needed to oppress somepony enough was thirst?

That ended the first day, though not without complications. One of the tents had caught fire at night from a fallen lantern: thankfully nopony had been hurt and none of the supplies had been destroyed. Still, as it was, several ponies would have to sleep out of a tent, and Spike had been the first to volunteer. His wives too, eventually, volunteered to sleep out of a tent: thankfully they still had the large blankets and pillows to sleep upon.

Spike's stamina had been drained from his "bandit extermination" to so little that he could barely even eat and drink. Twice he fell from his camel during the journey due to falling asleep and as such he could do little more than talk most of the time. Al Abbas had recognized this and placed him on a diet of honey, oats and dried berries, so as to regain his strength.

The second day saw them arrive at a canyon with caves and an honest-to-goodness forest surrounding the local oasis. The canyon walls were littered with green, transparent glass.

"Likely left over from a comet," Al Abbas said.

"Comets can hit the planet?" Spike had asked.

"Yes, though it has been a very, very long time since that has happened," the earth pony said. "We astronomers have observed all sorts of celestial phenomena over the millennia: we have even seen asteroids impact the moon."

"Huh," Spike said, wondering if Luna had had anything to do with that in the past. Trying to launch herself back down to earth as Nightmare Moon, perhaps? "So, what is it?" he asked, handling a piece of the green glass.

"The comet hit hard enough to fuse the sand into glass, and the materials within lend it its color," the earth pony said, taking a swig from a water jug.

"Interesting," said Spike, placing a few of the more errant pieces in a bag of his. Maybe when things back home were sorted out and he could properly "function" again, he could send some of these back. He knew Celestia and Luna would love such extra-solar pieces in a museum.

After the second night, Spike had no idea just how antsy his wives were getting.

"Oh, I never thought I'd feel so anxious for something!" Maria said to Meia and Asalah as they traveled along with the caravan. This marked the seventh day since Spike had gotten his letter, but he had told them the magic would likely wear off sometime that night. As it was, the day dragged on even longer than usual for the four mares.

"Tell me about it," Meia said. "Not only could we not enjoy him after our promise of "apology", he would have been too weak to do anything since he lost so much strength from that bandit attack. It must have taken a lot out of him, to move around like that."

That much was true: dragons had near limitless endurance for a fight when the situation called for it, but this situation had not called for him to chase down a fleeing carriage or something. As a result, he had the speed, but not the stamina to keep it up for long: luckily for him the bandits had been easy targets, or else he would have collapsed had there been many more. In a normal situation where he was at full strength and was well-rested, Spike's stamina would be greater than many if not all normal stallions.

"I still don't know," Asalah said, looking at her hands as she gently held her camel's reigns. "Should I wait a bit longer? I mean-,"

"We know how you feel, Asalah," Trixie said, running her hand over her somehow still-taut belly muscles as her camel rocked from side to side. "It is an anxious wait to experience something like this, and to be perfectly honest, every mare wants their first time to be special."

"Was yours?" Meia asked. "I remember you saying Spike wasn't the first male you'd bedded."

"No, not the first male," Trixie said. "First dragon, maybe, and I must confess: my own first time was a bit of a let-down. Nice stallion and all, but he fell asleep after the first go." She didn't need to add Spike would be the last male she'd bed: that was obvious, her being his wife and all.

"That is all I heard from the female servants: stallions are notorious, in most cases, for being what they called "two-pump chumps", or something like that," Maria said. "I never really understood until recently just what they meant by that."

"I have heard similar," Asalah agreed. "Though from what I understand, Spike is not one of these "chumps", as you call them?"

"Not even close, honey," Meia said, smiling with fondness at the remembrance of her feelings of fullness every time Spike and her had had sex. They were all silent for some time before she spoke again. "Asalah, I know this might be personal, but I've heard zebra stallions are... gifted," she said.

"Where did you hear this?" Asalah asked in surprise.

"Oh, rumors floating around everywhere about how... impressive male zebras are," Meia said, thinking about Spike's own "impressiveness" the whole time. It made her salivate slightly.

"I don't know: from what I've heard, they are no different from other equines," Asalah said. "Your information either sounds like a malicious rumor or has something to do with magical additions."

"Sounds reasonable," Maria agreed. "There are always those who feel the need to compensate for something, whether through magic, medicine or money." She was likely referring to the Calrettos back in Spreign. Pompous, stuck-up nobles that ran with the same crowds as Prince Blueblood did: money and power were everything to the lord and lady of that house.

"I bet Spike could learn to change physically if we encouraged him to try," Trixie said in a thoughtful manner. "You know: learn to control that instinct to transform and put it to better use."

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean," Asalah said. "Isn't it all tied to emotions?"

"Oh, I'm just simply saying-," Trixie began, but was cut off by the blowing of a horn. All four looked ahead to see their next destination: the last of the oasis's they'd encounter before Spike was ready.

Meia looked out at the horizon: the sun was still above it, but not by much. "Ladies, we'd best be getting ready," she said, her words carrying two meanings. With gusto they went about setting up not only where they would "sleep", but also helping other ponies and zebras set up their own tents. The moon would be out tonight, though not quite a full moon, and as such more stars would be in the sky that night.

Spike was off by himself, setting up tents while a few of the other caravan camels went to the oasis for a drink. It did not take long to set up, but just as he finished the last one, the night was already encroaching fast.

"My friend, can I talk to you for a second?" Al Abba said, coming over with something in his hand.

"Yes?" Spike replied as a familiar feeling washed over him.

"Oh... I see your "curse" has been lifted," the earth pony said with a smile.

"How could you tell?" the drake asked. He had already told the pony about what Twilight had done to him: after laughing for a good minute, the earth pony had expressed his sincerest apologies and said he would make it up to him some day.

"That slight golden glow that just washed over you," he said, holding out the thing he had been carrying. It was a small vial, perhaps blown from the same kinds of glass scattered throughout the desert. A pinkish liquid swirled inside.

"What is that?" Spike asked, taking it from the offered hand.

"It is a stamina potion: I am guessing you will need it tonight," Al Abbas said with a smile and a twinkle in his eye.

"How soon does it take hold?" Spike asked. "Will it even work on a dragon?"

"Ten seconds, and yes," was the answer. "It is specially made to help all males with so much love to give. As it is, I bid you goodnight, my draconic friend. Sleep well, though personally I doubt you will be getting much of that." Chuckling at his comment, the earth pony bowed and walked off, his hooves leaving behind little imprints in the sand.

Spike looked at the potion, a thought coming to his mind. A dragon's biology was indeed different from a stallion's, especially the production of sperm. For a dragon who had found no release after weeks of regular use, his "soldiers" must have been backed up halfway to his spine by now. Add to that the fact that both Meia and Maria's cycles were going to start soon, and Spike had the distinct feeling that before he exited the desert, he would have three, not one, pregnant unicorns in tow.

Pocketing the potion in his robes, he made his way through the camp, over to a cluster of trees where he had been told his wives were waiting for him. Lo and behold, just as the sun set and the moon began to rise, he stumbled onto something out of a fable.

Trixie, Meia and Maria lay spread out before him on a pile of pillows and blankets, their bodies covered, or barely covered, one could say, in the same dresses they had been forced to wear back in Agrabah. Only now, with his mind completely sober, could he see just how amazing they looked: every curve outlined, no, accentuated by the clothing. Asalah lay amidst them, her glimmering eyes showing through her veil as her still-robed body was spread out before him.

"Asalah? Are you going to wear that forever?" Spike asked, his blood suddenly pumping down to a place that had been blood-free for what felt like ages.

"No, husband," she said, reaching up with her hands as she sat up. "We drew straws to see who would be your first for tonight. I won for the first round, so finally you may see me without my robes."

Rising to her hooves as Spike slowly removed his turban and upper robes, she pulled the hood-like veil from her head. Her mane cascaded onto her shoulders, the hairs alternating between black and white in a contrast like something out of a painting. Her eyes, exotic as the rest of her, were a deep blue, almost as blue as the Barnlantic Ocean. Spike felt like he was swimming in them, and to be truthful he wouldn't mind if he never emerged from their watery embrace.

Until her agile hands undid the small silk belts holding her robes together, that is. With a slight flourish the robes pooled at her feet, revealing what Spike hadn't even dreamed of: her body, full in its naked glory. Blood instantly plummeted into his groin.

Her breasts were large and very rounded, with the areola of the nipple being much larger than on any other pony he had seen, which basically meant his other wives. They did not sag in the slightest, and her waist... oh, it was ever slender, so that she had a vague hour-glass figure to her. But when his eyes traveled down her alternatingly-striped body, he stopped. Her hips and thighs... they were large, larger than those of the others. But they were not fat: no, they were muscle, inherited from an originally savannah-inhabiting race that had evolved to run more than most ponies due to the presence of more predators. As such, her legs were like they were sculpted from a surgeon's handbook, with the muscles sticking out plainly from underneath the striped pelt.

Under his gaze, her confidence seemed to wither and she timidly covered up her marehood with both hands, the action unwittingly making her arms squish her breasts together. They poked forward and up, looking even more tempting that Spike had thought possible.

Reaching into his pocket, Spike whipped out the flask and downed the contents without a second thought, just as the sound of tearing fabric greeted all of their ears. Spike looked down in surprise as the crotch of his robes began tearing at the seams.

"Well, that's new," he said, dropping the vial onto a pillow. With a flex of his hips and tail, the fabric tore itself apart, falling past his ankles as his own monster was freed to the desert night air.

"..." was all Asalah could say, looking down in surprise as the behemoth before her. It... it was like an obelisk, the kind her father had built around the city. But it looked harder than the stone those had been made of, and the pendulous globes beneath them were swollen to what had to be an almost unnatural size. It was sticking straight out towards her like a python about to strike, with its natural shape giving it an ever-so-slightly upward curve.

"Spike? Why are your balls so big?" Meia asked in surprise.

"An erection-nullifying spell does not inhibit sperm growth," he said, taking a step out of his tattered robes and coming closer to Asalah, who took a very hesitant step as well. "And dragons, as you know, produce vast quantities that last longer than any other species. So..."

"He's packing heat tonight," Trixie said with a blush as some drool slid from the corner of her mouth. Maria's mouth was hanging open slightly as well, her tongue passing over her lower lips as she stared. Why couldn't she have picked the winning straw?

Gently, Spike leaned in and grasped Asalah by the shoulders, pulling her closer to him as he captured her mouth in a kiss. It was her first kiss, so he went about it gentle, his lips gently nipping at hers when he made contact.

Asalah felt a chill tear through her body: she had indeed never been kissed, and Spike's lips made her feel all tingly. She leaned into the kiss, her encouragement causing Spike to pull their bodies closer together. She could feel his muscles flexing under his scales, the heat coming off of him in wave upon wave. She felt like she could have stayed this way forever, nestled in his arms as their kiss deepened.

"Oh!" she said, startled by a sudden feeling of something sliding against her belly. She broke from their kiss to look down and suddenly remembered how erect he was: his shaft was forcing itself between them, the underside making an unusually pleasurable rubbing notion against her stomach.

Holding her gently, Spike lowered his fourth wife to the ground, he lips nipping at her neck as they settled down. Asalah shivered as his kisses peppered her throat, earning a slight moan from the zebra mare.

Then his tongue snaked out as he went lower, licking her nipples. She gasped and arched her back slightly at this, her hands forming fists when he took one nipple in his mouth and suckled on it. Oh, the feeling of the pull, of something wanting to suckle her made the zebra gasp and sigh softly, as he switched between breasts, kneading the other with his hands. He would even squeeze now and then, causing the flesh to deform and rise upwards, as if he were trying to get them to squirt milk: it felt natural, and so very, very good.

As he continued down, Asalah grabbed him by his head: she could tell she was ready. "Please, husband," she said, softly and in a pleading voice. "Put it in me: I beg of you."

Spike looked up, lust and a hint of confusion in his eyes. She didn't want the full-body treatment? Oh well: he could show her later, perhaps. "As you wish," he said, raising himself up over her body. Gently, he used one hand to rub the outside of her marehood with the crown of his dick, holding himself steady as her petals opening before him like a flower greeting a new morning. Fluids, all of them hers, began to leak out slowly as her hood filled with blood and expanded to greet Spike's soon-to-be invader.

She gasped softly at this: she had thought her body ready, but as he was showing her, what she thought and what her body felt were two different things. She placed her hands on her stomach to ease the fluttery feelings within as he rubbed against her, the ridges on his shaft making her legs weak and her breathing heavy.

"Please, husband," she squealed as a strange feeling went through her body. "Please, Spike."

Spike looked down at her. She had not said his real name in a long time, usually referring to him as her husband: this was a sign of improvement. Gently, he pushed inwards, the great bulbous cap forcing the virgin zebra's marehood apart.

She let out a scream at the sudden intrusion, her calls cut off by Spike's mouth recapturing her own. Still her lungs burned as she tried to shout out, the feeling of her body filling and stretching feeling like nothing she had ever dreamed of.

Spike stopped the first two inches in, her tightness causing him some discomfort. He waited, leaving that bit in her as her body naturally adjusted to his size. The others watched with interest, noting how Spike was going slow and gentle: not many stallions in this position would have done the same.

Muffling her wails against his lips, Asalah looked into the eyes of her husband with her own, seeing something she had not expected.

Spike's eyes contained no trace of lust or aggression: they were filled with concern, and through them, she could see the love he carried within himself. It was as if he were a massive lake, filled to the brim with water that had to be held back by a large stone dam. Every now and then he would have to release only a minute portion of his massive quantity, or else everything would come crashing down and he would cease to be. Right then and there, Asalah had never seen anything more romantic: she was looking into his very soul, and now she never wanted to part from him.

"M-m-more," she whispered, her tongue reaching out of her mouth to interact with his own. He tasted a bit like metal, that sweet flavor when one sucked on a spoon or something similar. It was attractive: she plunged her tongue in some more to get at the flavor.

Spike slowly pushed into her, her request acknowledged in his mind. She tensed some more as the next few inches went in, but her body had had time to prepare and was far more stretched than it had been before. Soon enough, after a few more minutes of waiting, Spike pushed in the last few inches, hilting himself on her. His heavy sperm-filled balls rested against her large toned rump, which quivered every few seconds.

Together they just lay there like that, Spike marveling at her tightness and Asalah feeling like she might burst. She could feel his pulse within her depths, that monster inside of her not quite in her womb, but she felt like it was pretty damn close. Oh, such an exquisite feeling! How could she have never thought it would be like this with Spike? He had bared his soul to her, shown her the ferocity her inner demon wanted and the tender gentleness that every mare needed. She was in love, now more than she had ever dreamed of being.

"Move," she whispered, her hands snaking down to feel her lower abdomen: it was tight, filled with the living example of dragon virility. Spike did as she requested, slowly pulling out before sliding back into her, her slick tunnel exuding juices as it made way for something a bit more solid. Her hands could feel her lower body swell with fullness as he entered her, the feeling so utterly erotic that she had no idea just how to respond. So she did the best thing she could think of: she bucked her lower body against his.

They both gasped as the sensation of slamming together hit them both, Asalah's eyes rolling back into her head and Spike's tail twitching behind him like a snake strike. Then, as he retreated and reentered, she did it again, and again, and again, until they had a rhythm going that had the zebra below huffing and puffing. Her mane felt sticky with sweat, her lower body began to feel sore, and something inside her was building. Her full breasts giggled in front of his face, bouncing up and down on harder thrusts as the drake altered his speed. She was building, building to what, though she hadn't the faintest idea: all she wanted to was have him make love to her forever under those desert stars.

Just like that, on a particularly hard thrust, she came, experiencing her first orgasm. And boy, was it a doozy. Every muscle inside her clenched as jolts of what felt like lightning coursed through her: every nerve, every fiber in her muscles, every single bone felt electrified as she came.

Spike lost it when she clamped down on him hard. With a grunt, he came to, his balls emptying part of their load into his fourth wife. She looked down in her post-orgasmic haze to see her belly swell from the sheer amount of cum deep within her. That alone triggered another orgasm, her body shuddering slightly from the aftershocks.

Spike pulled out of her, still as hard as, well, a rock, with some of his seed still leaking from his member. He looked down at his wife, who seemed to be so wrapped up in her post-orgasmic bliss he doubted she could even hear him.

"I think she's done," Maria said, getting up. "I drew the next straw: my turn."

With that, she nearly tackled the dragon, sending him onto his back as her mouth descended, not on his lips, but to his hard shaft. Like a child nursing from a bottle, she covered the whole head and sucked, getting the last bit of his pheromone-laced creamy concoction into her belly. Same chocolate taste, same amazing sweetness.

Pulling herself over his body, she pulled her clothes off along the way, the sheer fabric sliding off easily. Pressing her breasts against his chest, the unicorn raised her hips up so that her opening was positioned directly over Spike's skyward-facing big purple rocket. With barely-constrained slowness she lowered herself onto him, moaning into his shoulder as he filled her up. Soon enough, he was as deep as he could go, her fluids leaking out all over his base and balls.

They stayed like that for a few seconds before she began to move once more, raising her hips up and pressing them back down to take that massive piece of meat in her again. Spike's hands snaked around past her waist and firmly grabbed her ass, earning a hiss of pleasure from the Spreignish noblemare as he slowly began to push her up and down at a faster rate.

Trying something new, she rocked her hips from side to side, rolling Spike's cock deep within her. It felt utterly amazing: it was as if a massive key was being fitted into a doorlock and all of the tumblers were falling into place. She rolled her hips some more, reveling in the feeling.

She could feel her orgasm building already, but she fended it off as best she could. No, she couldn't be done this early" not yet! Picking up the pace, she began slamming herself down on him, her magic holding the orgasm at bay as she rode him. Her breasts slid up and down his chest, the scales providing friction to her nipples in ways that made her want to scream out.

Spike turned his head after a few minutes, a feeling of closeness washing over his senses. He looked down at her and saw her horn glowing slightly: she was using magic to hold back her orgasm, that little minx!

"We'll see about that," he thought, his tongue extending up and out of his mouth. With it, he wrapped around the mare's horn and began to quickly stroke it, the slippery tongue lathering it quickly.

Maria's eyes shot open at the new feeling. What was he doing?! She- oh, she couldn't hold back that any longer! His tongue was interfering with her magic and worse, or better depending on how one looked at it, her entire body was on fire from the pleasure to her horn. It was one of the side effects of being a creature who did magic through such an appendage it was highly sensitive and was the focus of many a pleasure novel's naughty bits. But this was better than any novel: it was without a doubt the honest-to-goodness greatest feeling she had ever had visited upon her horn.

With a squeal she came, her first orgasm in a long time followed immediately by another one. And another one, and another one, until they all seemed to blend together. Her body reverberated with the magic flowing through her, and as she clamped down again, she felt a boiling liquid enter her core.

Spike grunted as he poured out his seed into the vivacious mare above him, earning moans as it filled her too. Her belly now swollen, the mare rolled onto her side, Spike's shaft emerging from within her with a wet plop.

Spike looked over at her, a smile on his face as he watched her twitch every now and then. Her body was still on a high and for the moment, it looked like she too wouldn't be able to handle another session for a bit.

"My turn," Meia said, standing up and walking over to Spike, her clothes disappearing in a flash of magic. She walked up to his side, but did not slide her now-swollen marehood lips onto his cock. Now, instead, she placed them over his face, with her own head sliding up next to his somehow still rock-hard shaft.

"We can both do something this way," she said, licking her lips. Without so much as an order she began lapping at the rock-hard schlong, tasting on it the essences of both Asalah and Maria, with a bit of Spike's gunk to boot.

Spike was intrigued: he hadn't thought of this before. Raising his hands up, he spread apart Meia's legs and buried his face between her thighs, earning a moan from the unicorn. His tongue flickered out into her core, swirling around inside.

Moaning as she was invaded, Meia took the head of Spike's shaft into her mouth, sucking on it hard as she pumped the base with one of her hands. The other hand gently fiddled with his balls, noting how large they still were. Not as big as before, but still sizable.

Spike pulled Meia's core closer to him, the force almost pulling her off of his shaft. Almost; she plunged her head down onto it, noticing how much heat it was giving off. She could feel every pulse of his heart through that pole, the sheer power an intoxicating feel. She had felt this way after he finished off the bandits: changelings were attracted to power, and the amount that Spike was giving off simply through his shaft was giving her a buzz like no alcohol could.

Still, it was times like these that she wished she could be in her changeling form. Spike's massive meat was too large for a normal pony throat to handle and her true changeling physiology would have had no problem swallowing him to the base. But that could not happen: not yet, at any rate. So for the time being, she was content to slide the massive dragon pole as far in as she could savoring the musky flavor as the pheromones played with her head.

She felt her stomach clench and as a result of not wanting to finish too soon, she rolled off of him. As he looked in confusion, she rolled back on and stuck herself onto his shaft, burying him deep within her. Before she could move, however, Spike's wings thrust against the ground, launching them to their feet. Well, to Spike's feet at any rate: in a flash, his arms had snaked under her legs, spreading her wide as he took a more staunch position. Throwing her arms around his shoulders for support, Meia marveled at the fact that he had managed to stay inside that whole time.

With a look of triumph in his eyes, Spike began to pump her up and down, his tail straight as an arrow behind him for support. Every thrust, every move, had him deeper within his wife than before. If she had been born with toes like a monkey, she knew they would have been curling.

Meia felt her stomach clench once more and felt an orgasm rock through her, just as Spike's shaft twitched within her. With a gush he unloaded his spunk into her, her belly swelling like the others had. She lay against him for a few moments, trying to catch her breath. Spike felt some his essence drip down onto the ground, but instead of just holding her up like that, he gently kneeled down and lay her on her makeshift bed. Meia closed her eyes, the feeling of fullness making her drowsy.

Spike looked over at Trixie, who by now was exuding liquids from two parts of her body. "I take it you are next?" hee asked with a roguish grin. He was beginning to tire and felt like his pole was softening, but he had one good go left in him..

"Indeed," the blue unicorn replied, turning over onto her belly as Spike approached her. Quick as a flash her clothes disappeared in puffs of smoke, leaving her toned behind exposed to him in all its glory. "Wait," she said as he knelt down behind her. "I... I want to try something different."

"Yes?" Spike replied, stopping before he could stick himself in her. Truthfully he was wondering if having sex this early in the pregnancy could affect the foal: would something happen if he stuck his giant dragon dong in her tunnel, knowing full well that his size could affect her in ways a normal stallion's never could?

"Put it... in my ass," she said, sounding embarrassed to even be saying it.

By now, Spike's mind was too far gone with lust and sexual energy to care what she said. If she had told him to stick his tail in her, he likely would have. "All right," he said, lining himself up. With a slight push he entered her other hole, the immediate tightness and odd feeling of clenching being so different from anything else he had experienced.

Trixie moaned beneath him, her breasts pushing into the pillows as she felt him slide in her. He stopped after reaching the base of his shaft, which had taken a few minutes to accomplish. Leaning over her, Spike placed his hands alongside Trixie's shoulders and began to pump slowly.

"Oh!" Trixie moaned, the feeling of being filled reminding her of just what he had been like back on the train. But he was far more experienced now, and he showed it: his fingers had moved down to her sopping marehood and were teasing the puffed-out hood, earning several gasps from her. He had gotten so good in what was truly such a short amount of time that she knew if he hadn't gotten married or had royal obligations, he'd have been pleasing every mare he wanted from Manehatten through Las Neighgas, with Ponyville somewhere in-between that. Or he would be in adult films, though he'd likely be putting the other male stars out of business.

He pounded into her harder, the force causing her body to jiggle. From Spike's point of view, the sight of her moving against him, with her ass smashing against his waistline, was unbelievably erotic. They continued like this for a few more minutes until Trixie spoke.

"Leave it in," she said, and then her body clenched. Spike had had no idea she was so close, so that when the full force hit him, he couldn't help but empty into her bowels. Trixie in turn threw her head back in a silent howl, no noise emerging from her mouth as she did so.

After shaking his head and looking through now-sleepy eyes, Spike could see the sides of her stomach bulge out slightly as he shot what felt like the last load for the night. He looked around as he withdrew from the blue unicorn: all of the others were asleep. He looked back down at the sound of snoring to see Trixie had fallen asleep as well, the look on her face one of peace and content.

"Goodnight, my wives," Spike muttered, laying down on a few pillows. "Pleasant dreams." With that, he too was asleep, the smell of sex and the feelings of love both pervading the area like a fog. Nothing disturbed them that night.


	20. Information and the River

Chapter Twenty

Information and the River

After getting an early-morning wake-up call by some passing camels, Spike set out for the day with the rest of the caravan, feeling refreshed and more alive than he ever had before. His wives seemed to be in much higher spirits than they had been before, and Asalah kept looking his way every now and then in an entirely seductive manner. To be truthful, Spike was entirely glad the caravan only stopped for the night or when they reached an oasis, which usually happened at the same time. Otherwise he might get chafed from constant sex. As it was, the had stopped at a small oasis in the middle of the day, with birds flittering from tree to tree. Spike was among the first to arrive and as such had ample time to set up his things before going off.

Feeling so good with his life at the moment, Spike couldn't help but decide to write a letter. He had forgiven Twilight right before he wrote it, but as it was he couldn't bring himself to write to her: who knows how she'd react. Instead, he addressed it to the one pony who he had not written to this whole time.

_"Dear Luna,"_ he began, making sure he was alone when eveypony else had reached the rest stop. It was the middle of the day and frankly Spike had a feeling his wives would be too hot to want to have sex. It was so much easier when the cooler nights made it much less stressful.

_"I assume by now that you have heard of my engagements and have also heard of my now two-month old journey into fatherhood. Trixie should be expecting the foal within nine months, give or take a week or two. I was hoping this journey would be over by then, as I sincerely would not want our first child to be born halfway from our true home."_

He paused for a moment, as if thinking on something he had said previously. _"Twilight may have thought she arrested my situation when she placed that curse on me, but now that it has lifted, I must thank her. It allowed me to get closer to my wives, even though we were struggling for a bit. Plus, after it was done, they nearly jumped me when we made our stop. I cannot help but thank Applejack as well, for her helping me develop endurance by working for her on the farm: I truly needed it that night. Four wives is a tall order to please in one go, but it was no trouble at all."_

He grinned at this: that should give them all to think about. Oh, what sort of devil was he turning into, giving his friends the image of him rutting four beautiful mares into states of unconsciousness? _"As I am a forgiving dragon, here is the deal: as soon as we exit the Samarea Desert, I will start sending some things back, souvenirs and whatnot. Just to show I'm not still angry over the "erection-suppressing spell", like some would be if they had been in my position."_

He paused for a moment, a slight chill running down his spine as he remembered the incident with the bandits. _"I know I wasn't taught much about it princess, but I need to know more about my kind. If you could send back any scrolls you happen to come across, any at all concerning dragons, I would greatly appreciate it."_

As he wrote, there were a few calls from the birds above, but he ignored them. _"As for the Elements of Harmony, kindly inform them that I have forgiven Twilight and they should too. Soon enough the journey through the Samarea Desert will be almost a third done, and I will send you another letter once we finally exit it along the banks of the Nile River."_

He continued to write some more, wondering how everypony was doing, if anything new had happened in the Crystal Empire, how Ponyville was doing: you know, basic, everyday letter kind of things. He had even asked how Discord was doing: last he had heard, that rascal was out helping the Appaloosans find wells of water for irrigation, though more than once they found wells of... chocolate. Still, it would be nice to see how everypony was and what they were up to.

_"Sincerely, Spike Dragul."_ With that, he rolled up the scroll and let loose a flicker of flame, the green fire transporting the scroll all the way back to Equestria. As he grinned about how the others back home would react to this new letter, he lay his head back against the tree and let his thoughts drift along, on to the future and the things to come.

Meanwhile, in the royal court of Canterlot...

Seven figures sat around the table, unsure as to why they had been summoned. Celestia sat at the head of the table, sharing in the perplexity of her sister's summon. Surely this had something to do with Spike, or else none of the Elements of Harmony would have been needed to be present, right? The bearers of the Elements of Harmony were whispering amongst each other, with Twilight just looking ahead. The princess believed she had learned her lesson at the hands of her friends, what with their punishment.

Forcing Twilight to look into Pinkie's crystal ball and see a terrifying alternate reality, in which there were no books. There was only a small, flat contraption made of metal and plastic called a "Kindle". The sheer terror it induced in the unicorn was overshadowed by her acceptance that what she had done to Spike was overzealous and uncalled for.

Luna walked in, appearing a bit sleepy but still alert enough to let everyone see she meant business. The hushed conversations ceased as she closed the door behind her with Taking her place alongside her royal sister and co-ruler, she cleared her throat before producing a scroll.

"I recently received this," she said, looking over everypony gathered before her. "And yes, it is from Spike."

"It is?" Twilight asked, appearing rather surprised. "I... I thought he wasn't going to send any letter our way for a while."

"Indeed, sister," Celestia said, quirking an eyebrow at her, well, sister. "What does it say?"

The wings behind the lunar princess rustled slightly as she jostled into a more comfortable position in her chair. "Well, the majority of it was simply a "how are you, what have you been up to" kind of letter," she began. "I take it Spike does miss home and would like to know what has been going on."

"Well, it has been rather uneventful around here, to be perfectly honest," Rarity said, poking her chin in thought. "Other than the Grand Galloping Gala a few weeks after he left and that fashion show two weeks ago, not much has really happened. The Changelings haven't been seen, Discord has been on his best behavior, and King Sombra has not been seen since Spike was younger."

"What about that merpony sighting off of Manehattan last week?" Fluttershy asked.

"Fluttershy, merponies don't exist," Rainbow Dash said, though her tone was anything but serious. "Come on, those are just old pony's tales."

"I'm j-just saying, do you think he should know?" the yellow pegasus asked.

"Sugar, since he won't be travellin' by sea anytime soon, I'd reckon we just leave that part out," Applejack said, removing her thought to scratch her mane a bit.

"Well, I still want to know about what he's seen," Pinkie said in another rare moment of sincerity and seriousness. That was gone in an instant. "Like, has he met any fun zebras who like parties? Does he need cupcakes? Oh no, I didn't send any cupcakes with him! He'll starve!" Her hands reached up to pull her mane out.

"Pinkie Pie," Celestia said, her soothing voice instantly calming the pink earth pony. "I am sure he'll be fine without your delicious cupcakes. When you see him next, you can bake him all the cupcakes you want."

"There is more," Luna said, apparently annoyed they were getting rather off-topic. "He also has figured out when Trixie's foal will be due: in about nine months. He expressed concern for how long the rest of the journey would take."

"Well, given his current rate of travel and how far he still has to go, he should be back in Equestria in approximately eight months, two weeks, five days and thirteen hours," Twilight said, rattling off the numbers while she raised her fingers to illustrate her point. She stopped and looked up at everypony, who were all wearing masks of confusion and surprise on their faces. "Or so I think," Twilight mumbled, her face darkening a bit with embarrassment.

"Uh, okay then, moving on," Luna said, breaking the awkward silence. "He mentioned you specifically, Twilight."

"He... he did?" the purple unicorn asked, clearly surprised by this piece of information. "What... what did he say?"

"He said, and I quote, "_Twilight may have thought she arrested my situation when she placed that curse on me, but now that it has lifted, I must thank her. It allowed me to get closer to my wives, even though we were struggling for a bit. Plus, after it was done, they nearly jumped me when we made our stop._"

Twilight blushed at that last part. Truth be told, she hadn't been thinking that much when she sent that spell: she had been tired and the night before an experiment had literally blown up in her face, so when she found that out... well, things hadn't gone so well in her head.

Rarity cocked her head to the side slightly and turned to Twilight as if in confusion. "Twilight, I may not be on the cutting edge of social terms, but pray tell, what does "nearly jumped me" mean?"

"Uh," the other unicorn began, suddenly feeling as though the room was getting hot. Was she _really_ going to have to explain to Rarity what she thought she did?

"Spike also mentioned you, Applejack," Luna said, clearly trying to avoid more embarrassment.

"He did?" the earth pony asked, putting her hat back on her golden mane. "Well, whadid he say?"

_"I cannot help but thank Applejack as well, for her helping me develop endurance by working for her on the farm: I truly needed it that night. Four wives is a tall order to please in one go, but it was no trouble at all,"_ Luna said, a blush forming on her cheeks as her wings started to straighten out. Celestia's eyes went wide at these words, and she too blushed and experienced an expansion of the wings.

"Oh... my," Rarity said, placing her hand to her forehead as a blush spread across her like wildfire. "I feel... funny." Without any more pretext she fainted away, a strange look plastered on her face as she slumped in her chair. Everypony else was either blushing, or in Fluttershy's case, had wide eyes brought on by the shock of such details. Well, Rainbow Dash also had her wings fully extended like the princesses', and her mouth was hanging open slightly.

"Whe... when did Spike become so... crass?" Twilight asked, feeling so embarrassed by the letter that she wanted to crawl under a rock and hide from the world. "What has gotten into him?"

"I believe it is the more dominant male part of his mind finally emerging from its shell," Celestia said, slightly soothing her wings with a bit of magic: ha, shell, a good bit of draconic imagery there. "He had been with us for so long that he was subtly influenced by our social norms and ideas of proper etiquette to the point where he was what you might think of as a "beta-male", or a rather meek and mild character. Though, judging from this letter, he is rapidly losing that state of mind and is more definitively becoming much more of an "alpha male", if you see what I mean."

"I think so, your highness," Twilight said, still rather flustered by why everything seemed to be going by so fast. "But... I'm not sure if I understand just why Spike of all ponies-, er, I mean dragons, still had to go through with this, your highness." It had been an issue she had avoided as long as she could, but now she just had to say something.

The monarch did not look upset at the questioning tone in Twilight's voice. In fact, she sighed, the kind where there was going to be a lesson involved. "I had hoped to keep much of this a secret for a while, but it seems I no longer can. I am just glad all of you are gathered here, you included, Luna," she said, turning to her sister.

"Tia, what is this about?" the alicorn of the night asked, using her informal nickname like they used to all the time.

Celestia smoothed out her wings and settled more firmly into her chair, her composure entirely regal and very inviting, if in a friendly sort of way. "As you all know, Spike is somewhat of an oddity for dragons: being hatched and raised by ponies such as ourselves."

"Yes, I have heard of that: not many dragons are in such constant contact with out kind," Twilight said.

"Quite," Celestia said before continuing. "What many of you, or possibly all of you have not yet realized, is that the very fundamental state of our society, as it is right now, revolves around Spike and his actions."

"Wha?" Pinkie and Applejack asked just as Rarity came to from her little "episode".

"Spike has played an integral role in how so many actions throughout Equestria have played out, from the simplest of chores that would have otherwise distracted the Elements of Harmony from accomplishing something to helping save the Crystal Empire from King Sombra's darkness. He has been there for everypony and has freely given what he could, when he could: a most noble quality, I might add."

"Yes, but what does that have to do with now?" Twlight asked, confused as to why her mentor was remaining as cryptic as ever.

"Because Twilight Sparkle, Spike is such a rare individual, and to not have more like him would be a detriment to the land, if not the world. Tell me, my faithful student, what have you learned of draconic heritage?"

"Um, uh," Twilight said, rubbing her head as she tried to remember: she hadn't known there'd be a test on this! "That... dragons more often than not pass on what the core of their being is to their offspring?"

"Exactly," Celestia said. "Examples like this have been played throughout much of history. Evil dragons would more often than not leave evil offspring, and kind dragons would leave behind kind offspring." She cleared her throat. "But Spike is different, much more so than any of you might expect. As a creature naturally made of magic, he is also _hatched_ from magic, something incredibly rare. As such, he has a powerful connection to the magic that resides within all things, living and nonliving. To pass on these traits, his strength in magic, his nobility, and his caring heart, is something that would strengthen and help to expand the love and friendship of Equestria."

"I... I see now," Twilight said, a light bulb ringing in her mind. "That was why you had me punished with that... dream (she involuntarily shuddered at the thought of that "kindle" device) for giving Spike that spell. It would have meant-,"

"That he could not pass on those characteristics to his offspring, or have any, really," Celestia finished for her. "I was worried you might have messed up the spell's longevity and had permanently gelded him, my faithful student." Twilight blushed at this: she _had_ been a bit overzealous in her method of dispensing what she had seen as a punishment, now hadn't she?

The princess turned to the others, recognition dawning on their faces as the realization of Spike's destiny began to come to light. "A dragon's core being can be carried down through countless generations, usually through the mother's line. As Spike is no ordinary dragon and has such a strong connection to magic, his own characteristics would be the ones passed down: think of it as a massive spell transferred from one generation to the next."

With that, the conversation turned to all of the things they would write back to Spike about. Rarity seemed rather anxious to write back her own letter along with the one Celestia had advised each of them to write. As they left the room, Luna turned to her sister, her voice hushed as the door closed behind the bearers Elements of Harmony.

"When are you going to tell them?" she asked.

"Of what, dear sister?" Celestia replied. "You will go before them, remember? Only after your personal evaluation will they too be sent."

"Yes, I know of that," the blue alicorn said. "I was merely wondering when."

"If all things proceed on schedule, then within six or seven months," the elder alicorn stated. They were silent again before Luna spoke once more.

"And of their soon-to-be new duties?"

"Leave that to me, sister," Celestia said with a sly smile. "Judging from the way things are progressing, they shall have no problem doing what is best for Equestria, and for themselves."

"I can only hope you are right," the smaller alicorn said as they both rose to their hooves. "Though, I must admit: their own choices have fallen perfectly in line with your plan. Did you by chance have something to do with that?"

"Of course not, dear sister: do you think me a tyrant?" Celestia replied with a smile. "I let the chips fall where they may and act upon those events. That is why I have ruled for so long without opposition: I never stick a plan bound to fail. I always plan ahead but remain flexible to change, to sudden intrusions in the grand scheme of things. And as you are probably aware, Spike is no doubt progressing better than we had hoped."

"I know, sister," Luna said, picking up the scroll. "Also, do you mind if I... keep this for a while? For personal time?"

"Of course, but only if you lend it to me when you are done," Celestia replied with a great smile. Both sisters knew exactly what this "personal time" for either one would entail.

Meanwhile, sometime later back in the Samarea Desert...

Spike looked up at the sun through his turban-filtered vision. It was lower in the sky than it had been, but he still felt like it had not been long since they had left that last oasis. Also, he was beginning to wonder why he had not yet gotten a response back from Luna and the others. He had sent that letter well over a week ago, almost two weeks now, and frankly he knew he shouldn't get worked up about it, and yet he was.

Still, after that magical night, his wives couldn't stop wanting to go almost every night. Truth be told, he had no problem with that, but something was always on his mind when he was doing the nasty with his beautiful wives.

Asalah had exited her heat shortly before Spike had arrived in her home city. Trixie was pregnant and almost at the three-month mark to hoof. Meia and Maria had exited their heats a long while back, but since they had been getting their nightly rutting, they had been acting a bit differently. How so, Spike could not entirely tell, but to be perfectly honest, he was likely worrying about nothing.

So it was that this continued on, the repetitive traveling in the hot sun and stopping at night by an oasis. The days seemed to blur together, and Spike's scales took on a smooth sheen wherever he left them exposed to the blowing sands, like they had been polished. Except for the exciting prospect of sex almost every night, Spike didn't have really anything to do. No bandits troubled them, there were no signs of any large predators: heck, even the dangerous desert animals like scorpions were nowhere to be found. It seemed the only danger was the heat, and with the caravan runners always bringing water from ahead oasis before the caravan arrived, nopony went thirsty.

Still, Spike was glad when the climate and the terrain began to change bit by bit. The first thing he noticed was the eventual shift from sand and rock to hard clay and rock. Here and there desert shrubs populated the landscape, which meant they were not far from underground water sources. Soon enough more and more of these types of plants bounded, until there were larger plots of forest surrounding the oasis. Some even looked like jungles, growing thick with vines and an overstory that made the interior rather dark when compared to the surrounding bright dryness.

Almost two full months since he had left Roam behind, Spike found himself coming up over a hill, like he had been doing for what felt like forever. Did this desert just go on forever and ever? Was there ever an end to this monotony? Couldn't they just...

"Oh," he said, coming up over the side of the hill and seeing a sight unlike any he had before. Across the plains, which were filled with grasses, stretched a river. It was no ordinary river: it was large, imposing, and truly stunning to behold. Trees lined the banks here and there, with dense shrubbery and tall grasses eventually giving way to the dryer grasses between him and the water. There was a city along the banks, with bridges and aqueducts and irrigation canals and all sorts of other impressive architectural wonders. It was beautiful, really: to see such a work of art alongside something else deserving its own painting.

"Well, we are here," Al Abbas said as he rode up alongside Spike. "Welcome to the city of Riyadh."

"Riyadh," Spike repeated, remembering an earlier conversation. "Wasn't there a city named Riyadh in Saddle Arabia or something that sunk into the sands?"

"Yes, though this one is built on much firmer foundations," the earth pony said. "Building over a natural cave system and draining the water supply was not a very good idea. Here, though, it is solid rock and all the water needs are met by the river." He adjusted himself in his seat. "I take it you'll be traveling by boat upstream? The current is rather weak at this time of the year."

"Yes," Spike replied, looking out. "Is this the Nile?"

"Yes it is," Al Abbas replied. "Some used to call it the Neighle, but it fell out of use long ago."

"The Neighle?" Spike asked with a derisive snort. "That's a dumb name for anything, let alone a river."

"I have to agree with you on that, my friend: a horrible name it was," the earth pony said with a laugh. "Come on, I'll take you and your wives to the house of my nephew. He runs one of the markets here and has connections that I believe you would find most useful. Boats are indeed a rare thing in this part of the world, after all."

With that, the caravan went down the gently sloping hill, passing fields of wheat as they approached Riyadh. As they entered the designated area set aside for caravans, Spike found his wives looking over a few things at the market place soon after unpacking.

"Well, with what gold we have, we can afford to buy almost anything we desire," Spike said to his wives, his smile returning at the thought of sending so much stuff back to Equestria after a month of absence. The pervasive smell of the river was a very calming and welcome odor, so much so that the city itself seemed relaxed when compared to Agrabah.

Maria and Meia looked at each other, knowing it was time. "Spike, we have something to tell you."

"Yes?" Spike said, feeling a sense of dejavu sweeping over him once again. Could it be?

"We're pregnant: both of us," Maria said with a great big smile. Meia had one as well as she gently patted her stomach. "Meia performed a spell to check, as we had entered our second heat on that night your spell wore off."

Spike was silent for a moment before he grinned so large his face might split. "That is wonderful!" he said, pulling them into a hug as Trixie and Asalah bought a few trinkets from a teller.

"It was simple, really," the unicorn replied, knowing full well that this was the greatest thing she had discovered since, well, forever. Inside, and out, Chrysalis was happier than she had thought she could be, though there was twinge of sadness to it all. Spike would eventually find out her true self, and when he did, she had no idea how he would react.

But that was in the future: right now, she settled into her husband's warm hug, content to feel the heartbeat of him, herself, and their unborn foal. Changelings could do that, you know.


	21. Upstream Conversation

Chapter Twenty-One

Upstream Conversation

It was the following day, after much haggling and conceding on the price, that Spike and his wives bid goodbye to Al Abbas and set sail up the Nile in their boat. Well, not so much set sail as float with a little push from the winds and some magical oars rowing them steadily along. Still, it was a nice, relaxing ride, and the boat was spacious enough for everypony to sleep without curling up on each other, though Spike doubted any of his wives did not want to curl up next to him.

He sat near the front of the watercraft, content to feel the breeze brush past him as they journeyed up the river. Trees and long grasses dotted the winding path of the world's longest river, with birds and savannah creatures coming along to drink from its watery banks. Here and there, and luckily with his camera, Spike would get glimpses of creatures he had only heard about in books: lions, flamingos, hippos, rhinos, even a few friendly groups of wildebeest and gazelles who would wave back as they collected water for their villages. they , along with the giraffes, were the natives that shared the continent with zebras and as a whole were on very good terms with their hooved brethren. Spike felt much more relaxed than he had in a long time. He was so relaxed, in fact, that he soon fell asleep in his seat.

At the far end of the boat, one of his wives was also fast asleep. Asalah had never been on a boat before and as such, the gentle rocking motion had induced her in her an irresistible urge to close her eyes. As she slept peacefully on top of some pillows and surrounded by silken curtains, the three unicorns comprising the rest of Spike's harem were talking, although quietly.

"A colt or a filly, do you think?" Trixie asked, rubbing her belly softly. She now had the slightest bump, entirely noticeable but not distracting. In fact, it just looked like she had a bit more to eat earlier. In fact, she had eaten more earlier, as the foal's growing body had induced in her a sudden desire to eat more. Not too much more, as the foal absorbed nutrients from her and the whole "eating for two" myth was just plain wrong in that regard.

"I'm thinking it'll be a colt, myself," Meia said, gently rubbing her own hand over Trixie's belly. Maria's hand joined her, feeling the life growing within the blue unicorn.

"I'm thinking filly: that way, at least one of us will be right," she said with a smile, thinking back to her own prediction. The Spreignish unicorn had no doubt her first would be a colt: it just seemed so natural to her to bear Spike a colt first. If it was a filly, then she would be happy just the same and love and cherish the little darling with all her heart. She'd likely spoil the little filly rotten, just like her parents had done for her without realizing it. And yet, she had grown up just fine: she had known when to be good and when it paid to be a noble's daughter.

"Whether it will be a filly or a colt, I know Spike will love them," Trixie said, smiling as she felt the warm hands rub her belly. It made her feel relaxed, part of the group: part of the herd, if you will.

"Of course he will," Meia said, leaning back and looking down at her own taught stomach. She was only two weeks pregnant, and she knew she wouldn't show for a while, just like Trixie. "He'll love all of his children for who they are, as he does so for us."

"Do you think the foal will look like him?" Maria asked, gently placing a hand on her own belly. Once again, as with Meia, nothing yet showing but the soft pelt and the underlying stomach muscles.

"I've been reading up on that," Trixie replied, pulling a book out of her rucksack. "I hadn't looked in it at all when we were going through the desert: maybe I should have, to have staved off boredom some nights."

"Trixie, you and I both know you were too busy many of those nights to read," Meia said with a smile, which caused Maria to blush and giggle slightly.

"Most definitely," the Spreignish unicorn agreed. "I never knew dragons could output so much and regenerate so much in such a short time."

"They are highly magical creatures, though in different ways than we," Trixie said as she opened the book. "As for the foals, there is a special section for not only dragons, but for several different kinds of species hybrids. Would you care to listen?"

"Sure, why not?" Meia said, leaning back on some pillows to get comfortable, with Maria sidling up next to her.

Trixie cleared her throat slightly and shot out some magic from her horn: instantly, a small pair of reading glasses sat on her nose, making her look a bit like a schoolteacher. Thus, she began to read.

"Chapter Two: Dragons." She moved a finger down the page, past several diagrams, until she reached the first paragraph. "Perhaps the most mysterious, oldest and most dangerous of the sentient races, dragons come in a few select varieties: those who inhabit water, those who have wings and those who do not or cannot do either. For the sake of easy explanation, we shall classify these dragons into three named categories: earth dragons, water dragons, and sky dragons."

"Hmm, I never knew there were different types before," Maria said, curling some of her mane between her fingers. "Also, why is the second chapter on dragons? What was the first one on?"

"Quite," Trixie said, looking over her glasses at the noblemare. "Oh, the first chapter was simply an introductory one on relations between dragon and ponykind throughout the centuries: rather boring, if you ask me." She flipped the page and continued. "Earth dragons are those without wings and are more suited for life on the ground, since they do not swim. They move on all fours, have thicker scales and on average have a cooler fire, though they are by no means less powerful. As their body type is more suited for the ground, they are faster runners and will move on all fours when they have to, greatly increasing their speed. They are also more slender and have a leaner musculature, so as to aid in such motion. Elongated tails aid by helping balance them while running, and any spines they have are usually far narrower and sharper than those of other the other species, so as to reduce wind drag."

"So, Spike's not an earth dragon, I take it?" Meia asked, although she already knew the answer to her question.

"No, he has wings, and several other key differences in body structure," Trixie said patiently, without a modicum of exasperation or annoyance. She continued as if nothing had happened.

"They are by far the most unusual of dragons, as they will often and even regularly interbreed with other species. As a result of this tendency to crossbreed, there are relatively few truly pure earth dragons outside of their home range. Only there, where it is difficult for non-dragons to survive, can one find what are known as "pure-bloods", an archaic way of stating one's ancestry in draconic terms."

"Well, I certainly haven't seen one in Spreign before, and judging from her reaction to Spike, Asalah hasn't seen one in her homeland either," Maria said, gingerly stroking her stomach with a far-off look in her eyes. She must have been only paying half-attention to Trixie: the foal was one her mind and yet hadn't been in existence for even three weeks.

"Well, there aren't many dragons in this part of the world," Trixie said. "The dragon homeland is back on the continent that Equestria is on, and frankly many ships probably wouldn't have taken dragon passengers back in the day due to them being a fire hazard and all."

"Yeah, the captain of the Crowhop had said something along those lines," Meia said as she pulled out a comb and began moving it through Maria's mane, who gave a soft neigh of thanks. It was a good method for bonding between the mares, as being part of a herd meant they were to share everything with one another. "Spells probably weren't as advanced back then as they are now, what with new ones being formed every other day it seems."

"Are by any chance a subscriber to _Unicorn Annual_?" Trixie asked. "They publish all the latest spells every year to keep unicorns up-to-date."

Meia looked thoughtful for a few seconds as she combed Maria's mane. "No, I don't think I'm subscribed to anything. I think my mother was a long time ago." Truth be told, there was actually validity to the words of the disguised Chrysalis. Her mother had been subscribed to one publication: _Equestria Monthly_, where she had learned all about the kingdom that many of her kind had grown to be jealous of. That publication had long since disappeared, but Chrysalis still remembered looking through the magazines as a little filly: the dresses had been very pretty.

"Oh, well, it is a good magazine, though some of the recipes are not what one would think," Trixie said, returning to the book. "Sky dragons are simply dragons with wings and are more suited for life flying or at least flying a lot. As such, their bodies are lighter than an equivalent-sized earth dragon, but they are still very strong. They have powerful flight muscles and are considered the more dangerous kind of dragons, as they are more common due to the ability to spread and gather food and treasure more effectively. Whereas an earth dragon can only attack from the ground or a water dragon from water, a sky dragon can swoop down from on high."

"Spike can swoop down on high for me any day," Maria said with a smile. Meia giggled at this, was joined by Trixie, and soon all three unicorn mares were laughing. It was an enjoyable kind of laugh, of comradery and friendship and relaxation. They were bonding, becoming friends: just as those in a herd should. It eliminated the need for an aplha mare and as such improved the overall connections between the herd mares.

"Well, that is certainly the image I would not mind seeing," Trixie said, her magic making her own brush push through her mane. "Let alone be a part of."

"Indeed," Meia replied, her magic bringing them a pitcher of water. They eat took a swallow before Trixie turned back to the book.

"They are also highly sociable and readily interact with others at a younger age, eventually decreasing in such activities as they grow larger and much older."

"Define 'much older', please," Maria said as she and Meia swapped positions: now she was combing Meia's mane. "I doubt any of us will see Spike grow old and large enough to never want anything to do with any pony."

"Well, it says here sky dragons live just as long as any other species of dragon," Trixie said. "Many can and will live centuries and very well millennia or even longer, but it doesn't say if there is a way to tell just how old one will live. I believe the oldest lived one million years, judging from what the authors could tell."

"One million years?" Meia asked in disbelief. "How in the world could they tell it was that old?"

"They asked it, it says right here," Trixie said, holding the book so she could point it out. "They were also using lie-detecting spells, and frankly that old dragon had told the truth with every question it had been asked."

"Where is its body?" Maria asked. "You said it _lived_ one million years."

"He sank into the Barnlantic Ocean, it says," the blue unicorn replied. "Apparently he was so large that one could have mistaken him for a large island when he was asleep on the surface."

"Perhaps he was the inspiration for the legend of the kraken?" Maria said.

"That is possible," Trixie said, turning the page: she cleared her throat.

"Water dragons are those who spend most if not all of their lives alongside or in bodies of water, ranging from rivers to lakes to the oceans. They have no wings, have relatively weak limbs when compared to other dragons, but their bodies are incredibly muscled so as to move more efficiently through the water. As compensation for no wings, they often have flippers or even wing-like structures, similar to those of manta-rays."

"Oh, it would be so cool to see a manta ray," Meia said. "I heard they are very gentle and graceful creatures."

"I've heard that too," Trixie said as she turned another page. "Water dragons cannot breathe fire but instead can use sonar and can hold their breath for long periods of time. They also have a variation of fire where they can heat up the water in their mouths and eject it as steam or even boiling water. The ones living in the oceans can grow to enormous sizes but usually tend to stay away from others, both out of not wanting to compete and a shy reluctance to be known."

"Well, that would explain why they are so rarely reported or even conversed with," Maria said as she finished combing Meia's mane. Moving over to behind Trixie, she began to comb through the spots the blue unicorn had missed with her brush.

"Exactly, though you would think more would be seen now that ships are so much more common," Trixie said.

"That is all very fascinating, but I think we know what we all want to know right now," Meia said, patting her belly softly for added effect. "Tell us about their breeding."

"All right," Trixie said, turning the page. "Ahem: dragons can and will regularly interbreed with other species, including equines and similar folk. They do not engage in bestiality unless they are truly depraved, and rarely will one find a dragon that does so."

"Well that's comforting to know," Maria said. "I t would be mortifying to find Spike out in the field 'riding' some dairy cow or a goat."

"He's not that kind of dragon: we all know that," Meia replied, also thanking the sun and moon Spike didn't have that weird streak in him. Spike then wouldn't even be a dragon: he'd just be some kind of animal who _looked_ like a dragon. Not a good thing, to be perfectly honest.

"Moving on," Trixie said, sounding a bit uncomfortable with the image of Spike rutting a farm animal. "There are countless examples of dragons taking unwilling brides in the far past, but times have changed and as a whole the species is honorable and tries to integrate into a society it lives in."

"How exactly would a water dragon take a bride?" a voice asked. The three unicorns turned and saw Asalah walking towards them, without her usual robes and instead dressed like they were: simple. She sat down by Meia, crossing her legs beneath her: that nap had been relaxing, but she must have been awake for a few minutes to hear their conversation.

"Well, I guess they would keep them close to the portion of water where they live," Trixie said. "No ponies can breathe underwater, so taking them with them under said water would be impossible."

"What about merponies?" Asalah asked as Meia moved over to her side and began to comb her mane. The zebra shot her a look of thanks, an improvement over the dead stares she usually gave out.

"Well, if they existed, then they would likely be the best choice of an equine for an ocean-dwelling water dragon to marry," Trixie said. "I still think they're a myth."

"While a pleasant idea, they do sound a bit far-fetched," Asalah agreed, wondering why it was suddenly so easy to get along with these mares. All of the servants back home had been polite but distant, and her visiting aunts had been anything but nice. These three unicorns, on the other hand, connected better with her than she could have hoped. Maybe, in time, they would become good friends.

"That ends Chapter Two," Trixie said, turning the page. She looked at the title. "Well, Meia, I believe this is the chapter you've wanted to know most about, and frankly, so have I."

"What is it?" the unicorn asked as she continued to comb Asalah's striped mane.

"Concerning Crossbreeds," Trixie said. "Apparently it doesn't just deal with dragons, even though they are what the majority of the chapter seems to be focused on."

"Well, read on, then," Maria said as she moved her comb down to Trixie's tail.

"Of course," the blue unicorn replied. "As you are most likely aware, many different species of creatures, both sentient and non-sentient, can cross and produce viable offspring, though it is still unknown just how this is possible."

"I'm calling it: magic," Meia said. "Definitely magic."

Trixie quirked an eyebrow at this response, but continued anyway. "As a result, there are many characteristics possibly displayed in the offspring of a crossbreed, such as an earth pony with dragon wings or a dragon with something akin to mammary glands, AKA breasts."

"Wait, female dragon's don't have breasts?" Asalah asked, sounding confused. "We all have breasts..."

"No, they are mostly reptilian in nature," Trixie said. "So they would likely teach the young to find food or regurgitate it."

"Ew!" Maria whispered. Oh, sometimes her noble side really did shine though, such as then: a little filly disgusted at the thought of vomit. To be fair, nothing about vomit was appealing, but the others managed to keep their revulsion silent.

"Yes, vomit: reptiles do that some time. Though, I must admit, some of their features classify them as something not-entirely reptilian. I believe the term is reptomammals, or proto-monotremes, if you want to get extremely detailed." Trixie sounded an awful lot like Twilight Sparkle, who none of the others (save for for Meia, as Chrysalis) had even met yet.

"Proto-whatsitnow?" Meia asked. Her eyebrows had shot up into her mane at that odd word: what?

"Monotremes: egg-laying mammals, like echidnas and platypus," Trixie said. "Think... a beaver-duck."

"So... dragons are like a cross between mammals and reptile, leaning more towards reptile than mammal?" Maria asked. "I always wondered how they could so readily interbreed with mammals."

"Most likely, though I'm not entirely sure: I'll have to send Twilight a letter asking for more information," Trixie said. "Often there are three different "pure" forms offspring of a crossbreeding may take, though there is a greater chance of some taking random attributes of both parents in a way that will almost guarantee the survival of the offspring."

"So, if we lived in a warmer climate, like here," Meia said, gesturing to the lands around them. "Then the foal would more likely be like Spike than us?"

"I honestly have no idea," Trixie said. "Maybe, maybe not: who really knows?"

"I think Spike's foals would look like draconic forms of their mothers," Maria said. "Seems the most logical thing to me, personally."

"I'd have to agree with that, given what I've heard so far," Asalah said. "Is there more?"

"Yes," Trixie said, wondering why they kept getting sidetracked. She didn't mind, she just wondered why. "Why few if any foals are ever born stillborn or deformed, it is unknown, but such things will likely be found out at a future date in time when science has sufficiently advanced far enough to tell us."

None of the mares had anything to say about this. In their hearts, their greatest fear was giving birth to a deformed foal or worse: losing the foal altogether. To have such a dream shattered by a cruel twist in biology would undoubtedly crush their spirits.

Trixie cleared her throat and continued, trying to jeep the image of a dead foal from her mind. "The first possible "pure" form the offspring can display would be traits that are almost entirely that of the mother, with only a few key differences showing traits of the father. This could include a male minotaur crossing with a female earth pony and resulting in an earth pony with horns and a longer tail, but no other key differences."

"That sounds rather silly," Maria said, breaking the rather downtrodden atmosphere that the idea of losing the foal had brought upon them all. "An earth pony with horns? Sounds a bit like a costume, if you ask me." She should know: Spike had proposed to her at a costume party.

"Well, that may be, but there is doubtlessly examples of this somewhere in history," Trixie said. She turned the page. "The opposite would be where most traits are passed from the father and only a few are from those of the mother. This would be like a male dragon breeding with a female elephant and the resulting offspring would look almost entirely dragon, with the exception of possibly a trunk or a much larger body size. They'd also more likely walk on all fours if they were that much larger."

"Okay, now that is a silly image: a dragon with a trunk?" Meia said with a little laugh. "If they breathed fire, do you think they'd have to move it out of the way every time they did?"

"Yes, and I'd imagine they'd inherit the big floppy ears, too?" Asalah said with a small chuckle, earning a few giggles from the other unicorns. That indeed was a silly image: a trunked dragon with big ears.

Trixie continued on, readjusting her glasses from her giggling episode. "The third and much more common "pure" form would be for the offspring to acquire often equal part maternal and paternal traits. Such an example would include a kirin, equal parts equine and dragon. Another example would be that between a minotaur and a griffin, with a horned griffin that has hooves instead of lion-like paws and has a penchant for eating more grass and plant matter: minotaur heritage at work."

"Wait, griffins don't eat plants?" Asalah asked. From the look on her face, she had never seen a griffin.

"No, though they can and will still eat what we eat," Trixie said. "It's just they also have a penchant for eating fish, what with their predatory bird-like ancestry."

"As long as they don't go after foals, I'll be fine," Maria said. "That would also explain why I've never heard of one in the interior of Spreign: they must live by the ocean or large bodies of water."

"Quite," Meia said, her comb moving from Asalah's mane to her tail, earning a soft whinny of thanks.

The four mares sat in silence for a few minutes, each deeply wrapped in thought as to what their foal would look like. Truth be told, Meia/Chrysalis was wondering the most. Would it be a filly, as most of her family's heirs had been? Or could it be a colt, the rarer of the two? Would it look like Spike or be an exact copy of herself? Would they have to lay an egg, or would it be a live birth? So many questions...

To be fair, Chrysalis had cause to worry. While a normal pony's gestation was the same as hers, eleven months, a changeling had several different ways of expressing a pregnancy. Increased aggression, for one: that would come in a few months and she feared that she would be found out if she started acting hostile. Before that, however, came the joy and sadness stage: she'd fluctuate between happy and sad on an almost comical level, which could be bad for the trip. All ponies experienced something similar to this, but she, being a changeling, was more influenced by her emotions than normal ponies and would more likely act on her impulses. Things could become very difficult if she held up the disguise until then.

"Are you all talking about me?" a voice said. The four mares looked up to see Spike standing near them, a rested look in his eyes as he looked over his brides. "I thought I heard my name a few times."

"We were just thinking about you, Spike," Trixie said, putting an emphasis on "thinking". "About the foals and our future, about all of it. I still hope we can get back to Equestria before we're due."

"Well, I hope you'll be glad to hear I've been giving it some thought as well," the dragon replied, stretching his arms. "I want you all to be the ones who decide on the names."

"Really?" Asalah asked with a soft squeal of joy. That was so unlike her, it made everypony stare.

"Well, yes," the dragon replied. "I'm not one to take charge over everything in a mare's life: I protect you and that's pretty much it, I guess. Oh, and love you all, of course: that's the biggest part." Jeez, did he sound cheesy.

"Oh, that's one of the nicest things I've heard," Asalah said, rising to her hooves and walking over to her husband. She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a great hug, resting her chin on his shoulder. He looked surprised, but the dragon returned the hug, feeling his wife's body press into his own.

"Uh, what's happening?" Meia whispered, quirking an eyebrow. "Did I miss something?"

"I asked Asalah before, and from what I gather, letting the wife name their foal is one of the greatest gifts a husband can give in her culture," Trixie said. "It is what her father gave to her mother as a gift when she herself was born. So naturally she feels very happy right now: _very_ happy."

"Well, that is awfully sweet of him, but what is _she_ doing?" Meia asked as she saw the zebra take the surprised dragon's hand and lead him to the front of the boat. The other two looked at her with smiles, Trixie readjusting the small reading glasses on her snout.

"I'll give you one guess," Maria said with a twinkle in her eye. "All that talk of foals and the future have probably gotten her in "the mood", so to speak. Let's give them their privacy for now: I still want to hear more about dragon reproduction. So, Trixie: do all dragons lay eggs?"

The trio turned back to the book, ignoring the commotion at the front. Soon enough, the boat began to gently rock as soft moans sounded from the front.


	22. On the Homefront

Chapter Twenty-Two

On the Homefront

The skies above Equestria were clear that night, with the only lights being given off by the moon and the brightest of stars. The clouds of early morning were long gone, so that the moonlight shone through the windows of Ponyville's library without distortion of any kind. Inside this library, a purple unicorn mare perused a few scrolls, a massive pile of already-searched paper off to her side.

"No, no, that can't be it," she muttered, her magic throwing the scroll on top of the pile. "Princess Luna said she wanted any information on draconic behavior, not history." She floated several referencing books past her face, but the titles seemed slightly blurry.

The fact was the unicorn was tired, bone-achingly tired. She had been doing this all day long, and even the day before that, trying to find the information the princess had asked. After sorting through massive compendiums of work, knowledge not readily available to the common public and even some scrolls personally owned by Princess Celestia, Twilight realized something: none of it was doing her any good.

"Oh, Spike," she said, looking at a framed photo of her and the dragon. "I do miss you." The picture was from years ago: he was just a chubby little dragon back then, a helpful assistant and a good friend. But now, now he was gone: he had grown up sooner than she had expected and was already on his way to being a father. He was still a good friend, even a great friend: he had even forgiven her for overreacting to his marriage to a zebra. That kind of willingness to forgive and understanding nature was truly remarkable. But as with all friends, there was the fear of loss, and Twilight had had that in her heart since the day she had heard of his upcoming departure. The world was a dangerous place, and though she knew he was safe now, Twilight hoped he wouldn't drift away due to his responsibilities.

Then again, she knew what she was doing would not make up for her mistake: it would take far more than sending him information for her to feel better about herself. To so alter another being's body chemistry, and a very close friends at that, made her feel regret like she had never before. After hearing Celestia's explanation of Spike's role in Equestria's future, she came to realize that it had not been mere coincidence Celestia had taken her under her wing when she hatched Spike. The alicorn had likely realized her to be the long lost Element of Harmony, Magic, to have such raw potential, and the unicorn had a funny feeling that the princess realized Spike's role as soon as he had been hatched.

She looked over at the stack of books she still needed to look over and blew a few errant mane hairs out of her face.

Owlicious had gone out the study window to hunt for some mice or something: she was all alone in the room, and for once she felt rather sad about that. Usually when she was alone was the perfect time to catch up on some studying or do some quiet reading: but now, the library, her home, seemed... empty. As if it needed something to help fill it up, and for once the answer was NOT more books. The only problem was the purple unicorn couldn't put her finger on what that thing was. She hated not knowing the answer to something, and right now she couldn't stand to look at another scroll.

"No more for tonight," she said, letting the scrolls and books drop into piles as she rose to her hooves. "I need my sleep." With that, she got up and walked to her bed, her light nightgown rather see-through. She didn't care, though: she was by herself, after all, and it didn't matter what she wore to bed. That's what beds were for: they were an ultimate form of quietness and solitude, shared only between the closest of friends and lovers.

Slumping over onto the bed with a slight groan, she rolled over and pulled a blanket over her body. With that, she fell asleep, her soft snores soon filling the room.

A ways across town, another unicorn was having a similar problem. Rarity was sitting by her sewing machine, barely managing to keep her head up as her magic kept the thing running. She did not have any deadlines or customers waiting: there was no colt or mare for that matter in the other room waiting for her, either. Opal had long since gone to bed, and Sweetie Belle was on a sleepover over at Sweet Apple Acres with her friends.

So why was she up? Once again, a certain dragon was on her mind. Spike had been in her thoughts every now and then for the last few weeks, ever since she had found out he was going to be a father. She knew there would be a proper herding ceremony when he got back with his wives, and alongside her normal projects, she had been working on a suit specially fit just for him. But every time she got it close to being done, she'd undo it all and start over again, suddenly unsatisfied with a design she had been praising mere days before.

It was driving her crazy: why was she feeling like this? She had always known of Spike's infatuation of her from the start: likely everypony had. But she had kept him in a relationship strictly limiting them to being friends. She had felt their relationship would be ruined if they ever progressed past the "friend-zone", as Dash called it, that they had placed around themselves. They had both been comfortable with it: Spike's apprenticeship under Luna had left little-to-no time for relationships anyway, and Rarity had become far too busy to even be in a relationship for the longest time. She was a _lady_, and did not need to be constantly at somepony's beck and call in some relationship.

He had always been so generous, always giving: he had even given her the fire ruby she still had in her nightstand drawer. Every now and then she would take it out and look into its gleaming surface, almost as if trying to see Spike's reflection in it. She missed him more terribly than she had dared thought she would: to see his smiling face, to hug his strong and warm body, to have him help her around the boutique without any sort of recompense or payment, just like he used to...

"Oh, this will never do," she said abruptly, her magic separating the clothing she had worked on for the last few hours in a mere matter of minutes. "His wings are larger than that: come now, Rarity, you know these things." She slumped in her chair in frustration, several mane curlers falling out due to improper fastening.

She turned to look in her mirror and was met with a rather ghastly sight: her mane was all frazzled, her eyes were bloodshot, and- celestial bodies forbid! -there were bags under her eyes. She looked and felt more tired than she ever had been, with everything she was going through taxing her to no end.

"I believe I shall call it a night," she said to her reflection, the light shutting off by magic as she made her way to her bedroom. The floorboards creaked slightly underneath her hooves as she slowly walked, not even having the energy maintain a fast lady-like pace. Even as she walked through the moonbeams shining through her window, she felt distant from the world she inhabited, as if she belonged somewhere else. Then Rarity did something completely unlike her: she did not change into her sleepwear. Instead, she simply stripped off the dress she had been wearing for the whole day and crawled under the covers, her magic slowly taking the remaining mane curlers off of her head. She closed her eyes, and like Twilight before her, she was soon fast asleep, her very soft (and entirely lady-like) snores drifting through the room like musical notes.

Speaking of Sweet Apple Acres, there was one pony there that was up far past her bedtime. No, not Applebloom: she and her two friends were already fast asleep after eating marshmallows and telling stories. No, the pony in question was Applejack, carrying a small lantern with her as she made her way past the newest additions to the orchard.

The seeds Spike had sent back several weeks ago had already sprouted and were growing into fine young saplings, the leaves a good, green color. Applejack's eyes were drooping as she made her last patrol, but she couldn't help it. She just had to check that the newest batch of the seeds Spike had sent back were growing.

"Ah'm getting' too old fer this," she muttered as she slowly walked along, her hooves leaving soft imprints in the ground. Truthfully, she was not getting too old for this: she was only a few years older than Spike and she was in the prime of her life. Heck, she would be for a few more decades before she started to feel like Granny Smith. It would take been longer than that before she started to look like her granny, who was so old nopony bothered to ask any more for her specific age.

Crossing the last marker dividing the edge of the older orchard and crossing into the new set of trees, Applejack walked slowly down the rows, looking through heavily-lidded eyes at all of the tiny trees Spike had sent back.

Spike: she couldn't have been happier for him, to be honest. Well, she was the Element of Honesty, so it wasn't that hard for her to admit it. Here he was, married (and hopefully happily, too) to four beautiful mares, who were coming back to Equestria with him. "He's already gonna be a daddy in nine months," she thought with a tired smile. "I plum reckon he'll have a dozen of the little fellers runnin' around. Maybe when they get older, he can show 'em how good, hard work on a farm can give 'em the tools they need in life ta succeed." Tools being a relative term: she was really talking about work ethic, if it wasn't obvious enough.

She did love foals, especially whenever the newest batches of the Apple family came over for reunions. There were countless nieces and nephews she met every time they gathered around, and every time she saw them she got the feeling of want. She too wanted her own foals someday, but there was always so much work to be done, and none of the ponies in town caught her fancy. That, and she couldn't find that special somepony who would be able to help on the farm: most folks weren't cut out for that kind of labor.

She did miss Spike, as did Applebloom and her friends: shucks, they all missed him. He had been one of those things that you always appreciated but never realized just how much until it was gone. Shoot, when he had been helping out on the farm after Big Macintosh got hurt, the Apple family had come to realize just how useful he was. Using his flames to start campfires or the stove when the lighter wasn't working, pulling heavy loads neither of the Apple sisters could, even helping make cider when the situation called for it.

Applejack walked past the last row of saplings, glad Fluttershy had managed to control the animals well enough to keep them out of there. Rabbits and deer always had a tendency to try and eat the shoots of newly-growing trees, and fences were hard to put up. Never mind that half the time they didn't work: Fluttershy's stare was a much easier way of solving those problems.

She came to the last spot, where one tree in particular was growing strong. She had forgotten the name of the species, but to her, the tree itself was more important. It was growing strong, same rate as the others, though the trunk did seem a bit thicker at this stage. The small leaves were the right color, the outermost bark had a healthy look to it, and she could tell by the way it stood tall that the root system was doing great.

"Goodnight, Spike," she said softly to the little tree. With that, and a dimming lantern in hand, she set off for the house, until only the light of the moon shone on the rows of seedlings.

Off a ways, in a cottage not too far from Sweet Apple Acres, a lone candle flickered in the window. The animals inside the house, a few small songbirds and a white rabbit, were fast asleep in their small beds. Why they were in beds and not, say, nests or a burrow, was something only the yellow pegasus could explain.

Fluttershy walked past the window in her evening wear, a rather plain but nice green gown with frilly edges and large sleeves. She had been in her study for the past hour, poring over the tomes and photographs she had been receiving from her draconic friend. As a rather lonely pony, through choice and not circumstance, she took up an interest in literature pertaining to animals. They were, after all, the basis for her cutie mark, so it seemed natural that she found herself fascinated by them.

Her largest project had begun almost as soon as Spike had sent back the first tidbits on information. On the walls of her study were copies of the maps of the world Celestia had sent her. It had been a polite and rather timid request, she had to admit: she could barely speak in front of other ponies, let alone the royal alicorn princesses.

Along with these maps were tacked-up pictures of the animals her dragon friend had sent back: mostly birds and sea-going creatures, like some dolphins and whales. There were scatterings of some land animals, though Europe was not necessarily known for a lot of large native creatures.

"Oh, I can't wait for some new pictures," the pegasus said softly to herself as she picked up the candle. She knew Spike would deliver something amazing: he always had. "Hopefully he'll have some pictures of hippos." Sure, she sounded rather underwhelmed at the prospect of new photos adding to her collage and compendium of creatures, but to be fair, Fluttershy had never been an excitable pony. Easily frightened, perhaps, but never really excitable: the closest had been when Rainbow Dash had wanted a pet.

Wandering up the stairs and towards her room, the pegasus stopped for a second, a thought entering her mind. Spike had a zebra wife now, and the pegasus had told Zecora all about that. She had seemed rather happy, more so than most ponies would likely be: perhaps the thought of somepony similar to herself was making her feel like more of "home" was being brought back. Fluttershy felt good that she had told the zebra of that bit of news: she rarely got out much and it felt good to socialize, even if it was with close friends.

But then again, she rarely socialized with anypony who wasn't a close friend: her and Zecora both. Fluttershy entered the bedroom, softly blowing out the candle since the light of the moon was more than enough to illuminate the darkness. She lay down on her bed so that her wings were to the window.

She never could sleep on her back like most ponies could. She had wings to contend with, after all. That, and a certainly substantial pair of "assets" in her dress that she did her best to hide. Corsets could only hide so much, but the bindings did their job and she never forced herself to try and look smaller than she really was. It would have been a lie, and Fluttershy really did hate lying. It made her feel sad, the same kind of sad a pony felt when a good friend left.

To be entirely truthful, she missed Spike in a way most different from the others, if she knew how they missed him. She missed him not as a companion, not as worker or not even as an assistant. She missed him as a friend, one of her admittedly few in the whole world. He was close to her without trying to cross a boundary, a boundary that admittedly Fluttershy hadn't realized until she had heard of his marriages.

Most ponies would not believe she had only a few friends: her figure alone would have had stallions from all over drooling over her. But her shy nature and her feature-hiding clothes did little to help her make any friends of either gender, and she had no stallion friends to speak of. Big Macintosh was a good friend, but a close male friend... not so much. He was nice and all, and a very hard worker, but his single-minded determination seemed a bit intimidating to the shy mare.

Still, when she closed her eyes, she was smiling. The next day would undoubtedly bring news from Spike, who was off somewhere in Neighypt, or so she believed.

High above that lonely cottage, a floating city lazily passed through the night skies. Cloudsdale, made entirely of, you guessed it, clouds. The architecture, the walkways, the houses, the furniture: everything was a cloud. It was in one of these cloud homes that a certain blue pegasus stepped out of her shower, her towel doing an adequate job of drying out her pelt.

Rainbow Dash loved water, even though she'd never admit it: she did have an image to maintain, after all. The feeling of it running through her fur, soaking into her skin underneath, the way it buoyed her whenever she took a bath... It felt great, to be honest.

That being said, there was a new Daring Doo book that she had been dying to read, and so far had made it almost half way through after getting her hands on it. Crawling under covers, she picked it up off her sheets and placed it on her nightstand, having read enough for the night. On the cover Daring was up against a horde of reincarnated Roaman legionmares, the byproduct of black magic and science gone wrong. It was simply titled _Roam of the Dead_, a rather corny title, but effective at showcasing the action of the book. She was already past the part where they had risen from their graves, but now Daring Doo had to escape from the horde in order to find the weapon to put them back to sleep.

"They have the coolest armor," she thought, her fascination with military history a rather new development in her life. Along with aspiring (and looking like she was going) to be a Wonderbolt, the blue pegasus loved all things historical. She had started feeling this way all the way back when she participated in the jousting tournament in the Crystal Empire, and then it had sort of built up from there. It didn't help that Spike was feeding this newfound addiction: heck, she had made a small journal of the pictures he had sent back detailing the armor of his Spreignish wife's ancestor.

To be honest, Dash wanted to meet this "Maria" just to hear of her family's history. To think, Spike had married into a unicorn family that had ancestors who included a famous general in that part of the world. She couldn't wait to meet her and the rest: she was sure they would all become good friends, given time.

"I wonder what they'll be like?" the blue pegasus thought as she lay on her side. Her bed was a bit on the small side, but it wasn't a matter of convenience: it was simply a matter of space. Her room didn't exactly have a lot of, well, room, so to speak, and it wasn't like she had any visitors staying the night with her.

She frowned slightly at this, a recent gossip article popping up in her head. There were benefits to being famous, and as always there were downsides: this was one of those. Why did some articles always say she was a lesmarian? She never had a problem with the term, as she had several good lesmarian friends. She had a problem with that these so-called "journalists" were always speculating what mare she was sleeping with or something along those lines.

"No-good punks," she muttered, fluffing up her pillow. She wasn't a lesmarian: ponies just assumed she was due to her more tom-coltish attitude and athletic prowess. Why? Maybe they were threatened by her strong femininity and lack of "curves", as they put it. What, just cause she was toned and slender meant she didn't like stallions? The mere thought was a bit insulting, and worse of all, the previous article had put her in a possible relationship with, get this, her friend Applejack.

"Ugh," Dash thought, remembering the look on Applejack's face when she read the article. Luckily Twilight had resolved the matter before the editor of the article had gotten seriously hurt by either of them. That sleaze ball would make up anything to sell a few papers; maybe that was why he and his partner-in-crime, Diamond Tiara, got along so well.

Still, when the pegasus looked back at her Daring Doo book, she couldn't help but smile. She had thanked Twilight more than enough for turning her on to reading, but maybe she'd have to thank her again sometime in the future.

Far below Cloudsdale, a bakery was closing up shop for the night. Why it was still open that late was anypony's guess, as the rest of the town had gone to sleep hours ago. The twins Pumpkin and Pound Cake were fast asleep, and their parents were doing the same. The only awake pony in the building had just finished the last of her dessert, a triple banana-split sundae topped with crushed walnuts and a cherry. Oh, and the chocolate sauce: she poured it all over that dessert like she couldn't get enough of it.

"Time for bed," Pinkie Pie said. Whereas the sheer amount of sugar she had just pumped into her body would have kept any other pony up for the next week, Pinkie had a peculiar metabolism. Maybe it went along with her Pinkie Sense: she could eat almost anything sweet and feel no real side effects afterwards.

Still, she bounded up the stairs in a way that _should_ have been as silent as a rhino rampaging through a glass house. Yet, somehow, her hoofsteps barely measured above the noise level of a sneezing mouse. When she hopped into her bed, she did a 360 back-flip pirouette into the covers, somehow landing without making the entire bed bounce like a rubber ball.

"Party tomorrow," she said to herself as she mentally checked off her internal calendar. Tomorrow was the mayor's birthday and as a special request it was going to be a masquerade party. Pinkie normally wouldn't have had the supplies to put on so extravagant a celebration, even with her amazing partying skills. But thanks to Spike and all the things he had sent back from Europe, it would be an easy feat to accomplish.

Even as she closed her eyes, the hyper pink pony was going over everything in her mind. All of the masks would have to be passed out and/or selected by the guests, as it would be silly if everypony looked the same. The catering would be taken care of by Sugarcube Corner and Sweet Apple Acres, who Pinkie remembered had just harvested a fresh batch of apples for pie and cobblers. She licked her lips at the thoughts of all those sweets: perhaps she could_sample_ some of them before the party.

No, that would be rude: Pinkie hated being rude, and being rude was just one step away from being a mean old grumpiepants, like the no-good griffin Gilda. She was glad Spike had married only unicorns and a zebra so far: a griffin might trigger Pinkie's instinct to dislike the griffin, even though nopony had seen beak nor feather of that meanie since she left that day.

And then, just like that, she was asleep.

High above the town of Ponyville, in the highest tower in Canterlot, the two royal sisters looked on from their bedroom balcony.

"They are all asleep, sister: I now know of their dreams once more," Luna said, looking over at the tired Celestia. Both had rather plain nightgowns for princesses, with Celestia's being a very dark red and Luna's a pleasant shade of light green, almost the same green as fresh spring grass.

"Excellent, though I do sometimes wonder if we do the right things by intruding on such private thoughts," the elder sister replied. She was indeed very tired: all of the work involved in running a smooth and efficient kingdom was not the hard part. The hardest part was working with the nobility and their wealthy friends who were constantly butting heads with one another. There were even questions as to what the new addition for the castle was for, even though the princess had clearly stated there would be an extension to the royal family sometime in the near future.

The truth was, none of the ponies knew what that truly meant. They all assumed that some distant relatives of the princesses were coming to stay with them or something. They had an inkling Spike was gone, but to where, they still did not know. It was one of the best-kept secrets in the kingdom: everypony knew Spike was on a mission, but nopony knew where. There was wild speculation he was off in the land of the dragons, visiting the Crystal Empire or even mapping out the surface of the moon.

That last rumor had made Luna laugh when her sister had informed her of it. She knew the surface of the moon like the back of her flank. There was nothing new to discover up there: that was certain.

"What we do is for the best of our subjects and the kingdom," Luna replied. "You and I both know this."

"Of course, of course, but sometimes I just wonder," Celestia said. "Tell me, what are their dreams of?"

"Rarity and Twilight dream of Spike, sister, though their settings are vastly different."

"How so?" the elder sister asked.

"Twilight is apologizing to Spike for her actions, and right now it seems like he is forgiving her, though she has had this dream in the past and it turns dark near the end. Rarity, on the other hand, is... dancing with Spike."

"She is?" Celestia asked, a twinkle in her eye.

"Yes, though it would seem it is at the herding ceremony that is to take place when he gets back," Luna said. "The others are similar or typical dreams. Fluttershy is dreaming of the animals Spike is undoubtedly seeing and Applejack is working with Spike in the fields."

"Does she ever stop working?" Celestia said with a smile.

"It would seem not, sister," Luna replied. "I have also observed Pinkie's dreams of masquerade balls and Rainbow Dash is currently... fighting off Roaman Legionmares?"

Both sister chuckled at this, settling into their seats for some times. Luna, however, could sense an uneasiness coming off of her sister. "Is there something that bothers you this night, Tia?"

"I don't know: King Sombra hasn't been seen in ages, and Discord has been behaving himself admirably." Celestia knew something was brewing out there, but for once she hadn't the faintest idea of just what it was.

"I noticed, though those Appaloosans didn't like those chocolate wells," the princess of the night said.

"Yes, well, even they could stand to have a little fun every now and then," the princess of the sun replied. "I was thinking more along the lines of... the changelings."

"Ah," Luna said, understanding. "I too have noticed their subdued presence. It is as if they are hiding, preparing for something."

"But what that is, I don't know," Celestia said, leaning back in her seat. "Ever since the failed invasion all those years ago, surely they would have tried to come up with some plan to try again. Their queen is a crafty one, and I have no doubt whatever she has come up with will be something none of us could have foreseen."

"Indeed, though perhaps we over think their capabilities," Luna said as her sister yawned. "They took us by surprise back then, and now we have many more spells and safeguards against such infiltration. Come now: get to bed, sister. I will watch over the night."

"Yes, yes," Celestia said with a smile, hugging her sister goodnight. "Keep watch over my little ponies, Luna." With that, she walked into her room and closed the door behind her.

"Yes, I will," Luna said, looking out over the dark horizon. Somewhere out there was her pupil Spike, and as luck would have it, it was night for her when it was day for him. Her powers could not peer into the dreams of others during the day, so she could not contact him. But she would see him again, before he returned home. She had some business to take care of in the Far East, and it might do him some good to see a familiar face or two...

Or six.


	23. Of Letters and Friendships

Chapter Twenty-Three

Of Letters and Friendships

The Nile River was a pleasant river to travel upon when the spring rains didn't turn it into a raging torrent. Luckily for our five (or should I say eight) travelers, the waters were mostly calm as they wound their way further and further up the river.

It had been a week since they had started the journey, and Spike had to say he loved every minute of it. The weather had been pleasant, even with the high temperatures. Luckily, thanks to the cooling effect of the river, the air was not nearly as oppressing as it had been in the desert, and some nights it was even a bit chilly. Not that his wives minded that, of course: any excuse to snuggle up to their dragon was good enough for them.

Still, after sending that last letter, Spike had been in a bit of a rut, so to speak. He felt like the ponies back home would only be getting a glimpse of what he was seeing and the ponies he was meeting, but he wanted to give them more. They wouldn't teleport here: that would be far too complicated and dangerous, since teleporting between rooms in a library is not the same as teleporting several thousand miles away into the middle of a foreign country.

He had an idea, but it would take much magic to accomplish. So he began to write a letter in the middle of the day, while his wives were taking a small nap.

_"Dear Celestia,"_ he began, pausing to watch a flock of colorful birds pass overhead.

_"I know this may sound a bit overzealous, but I was hoping to introduce my wives to the rest of you, in hopes of creating friendships between themselves and you. I would hate for there to be resentment, or even worse, dislike, between any of you and my wives. I do not know of any draconic magic I can use to do this, but would there be a way for everypony who is interested to greet us through the mirror spell?"_

To be truthful, he had no idea just how his friends would react to his wives, and likewise. Would they hate each other on sight? Would their personalities clink together and would in turn facilitate friendships? Celestia was all about making friends: that was the primary reason for sending Twilight and Spike to Ponyville in the first place. The whole "preparation for the Sun Summer Celebration" was just a coincidence.

_"Sincerely, Sir Spike Dragul."_ With that, he rolled the small bit of paper and lit it aflame with his breath, the scroll disappearing into the breeze as it was teleported. All he had to do now was wait and perhaps doing so would do him some good.

But for once, he did not receive a letter back in a short amount of time. It did not arrive in minutes, or even hours. In fact, Spike was wondering if Celestia had even gotten his letter at all.

"Spike?" a voice asked, causing the dragon to turn around. He saw Meia rising up from the pillows, with Trixie, Maria and Asalah doing the same.

"Have a nice nap?" he asked with a smile, getting up out of his seat and sitting down by them.

"Very much so," the unicorn said, her magic summoning a jug of water and several glasses for themselves. "Did you do anything interesting while we were asleep?"

"Oh, just sent a letter," Spike said. "Meia, if you and the others wouldn't mind, do you think you could get ready?"

"Get ready for what, Spike?" Asalah asked as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She had taken to wearing less robes and while still dressed conservatively, she no longer was completely covered up.

"Well, I asked my co-sovereign if it would be possible for you to meet my friends from home," Spike said.

"What? They are coming here?" Meia asked in a voice that sounded a bit too startled.

"No: that wouldn't be possible," Spike said calmly, noticing the slight worry in Meia's voice. She was probably just nervous about meeting them. "Instead, I hoped we'd talk with them through the mirror spell."

"What is that?" Maria asked as she delicately sipped some water from her glass.

"It is simply a spell that works like a two-way mirror: one side can see and talk to another side, and vice versa. This way, they could get to know you before I bring you back to Equestria."

"And why would you have us do this?" Trixie asked. "Not that I mind, of course, but I'm just speaking for the rest of us."

Spike scratched his strong chin. "I was hoping that by getting to know you, my friends would warm up to you. I don't want them to think of you all as total strangers when we arrive back in Equestria, and I wanted you to meet the ponies who helped me become what I am today."

'Ah, so "introducing us to the family", so to say," Maria said. "I'll have to admit: we might have trouble befriending this "Twilight Sparkle" if she is even half as crazy as that spell she put on you made her out to be." The others nodded in agreement: that spell sure had put a damper on things when they had forgiven Spike.

"She's already received her punishment for that, I assure you," Spike said. "She's also apologized profusely, or so I have been told, and she'll no doubt do the same once she sees us again."

"Anything else we should know?" Meia asked, seeming much calmer knowing these ponies wouldn't actually be there with them.

"Well," Spike began, scratching the back of his neck. "I was... hoping you'd also write to them."

"What, like pen pals?" Trixie asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah," Spike said a bit sheepishly. There was silence for a few moments as the mares digested this small request.

"I see no reason as to why not," Maria said. "Although I would like to know whom I'm writing to, if you don't mind: we should know each other beforehand." The others nodded in agreement at this.

"That is part of the reason for the mirror spell. This way you can all decide who you'd like to write to, and about what," Spike said, knowing most, if not all of them, would hit it off rather well.

He felt a sudden surge in his stomach. "Speaking of which," he said, opening his mouth. Out shot a small tongue of flame, from which a scroll emerged. Snatching it up, he opened it and began to read.

_"Dearest Spike, I apologize for not responding as quickly as I normally would to your letter. Upon receiving said letter I immediately contacted all those who might want to talk with you. The Elements of Harmony responded quickly, along with their friend Zecora and what I am told are the founders of the Cutie Mark Crusaders: sisters, I believe, of two of the Elements and the adopted sister of another."_

Spike was indeed surprised by this: here he had only thought the princesses and his six closest friends would want to talk with them. Sweetie Belle, Applebloom and Scootaloo were not too much of a surprise, but Zecora he hadn't expected. He continued down the letter.

_"As you undoubtedly know already, the mirror spell is not difficult to perform or maintain, but it does drain a pony's energy if used too often. With everything going on nowadays, we will not be able to do this sort of face-to-face communication often: every two weeks or so, if you are available. That is, if you wish to continue doing this sort of thing."_

_"Sincerely, Celestia."_ Well, of course Spike wanted to do this every now and then: there was still so much more to explore and discover, and frankly telling a pony about something was better than writing a letter. Plus, he wanted to see his friends: it would help tide him over until he was at last home.

Then, however, he felt a tingle all along his body. Opening his mouth in curiosity as a feeling of surging power rumbled in his stomach, he was surprised to see another burst of green fire shot from his mouth. Only this time it did not coalesce into a scroll; instead, it seemed to hover in the air before stretching and bending, like putty. Soon enough, to the surprise of both him and his wives, it stretched and stretched until it was at least as seven feet across and a good three feet high. The fiery disc, for lack of a better term, seemed to solidify but remain floating.

The image inside changed from a bright blue to a clear, glass-like sheen as the image coalesced into what looked like a room. Then a figure walked into view, the tiara gleaming in the light.

"Hello, Spike," Celestia said, her horn ceasing its glow. "It has been a while." She was smiling and looking around, seeing the faces of Spike's wives for the first time. It was the same for Maria, Asalah and Trixie: they had never met or even seen the princess of the sun before, much less an alicorn.

Meia had, but nopony except for herself knew that.

"Hello, Celestia," Spike said, glad he was sitting down with his wives: the mirror was too short for him to stand and talk. "Thank you for this opportunity: it has been too long." Months may not seem like a long time to some, but going that long without seeing the faces of one's friends and family could truly be a bit of a downer.

"Spike? Is that you?" a voice sounded off-screen. There were a few hushed whispers off-screen, through which Spike could clearly hear "you go, no you go, all right fine" and other such nonsense. Celestia nodded to her left and Twilight Sparkle slowly appeared on-screen, making the motion like she was being pushed against her will.

"H-h-hi there, Spike," she said nervously. "H-h-how are you doing?" She almost sounded like Fluttershy with her stuttering: she really was nervous about this whole thing.

"Pretty good, considering past circumstances," Spike said, turning to his wives. "Ladies, I'd like to introduce you to Twilight Sparkle: I lived with her for most of my life while I was growing up in Ponyville." He looked back to Twilight. "Twilight, this is Trixie, Maria, Meia and Asalah," Spike said, gesturing to each of his wives when he said their name.

"H-hello," the purple unicorn said, giving a very small and timid wave.

"Hey Twilight," Trixie said, giving a wave from the far side of the gathering. "How have you been?"

"F-fine," the purple unicorn said, looking over each of Spike's wives. "Listen, I'm so sorry for what I did before, I know it was-," she spluttered out, only to be cut off by a cough by Maria.

"Twilight, we've already heard this from Spike, and though it wasn't easy, we forgive you for that little "transgression" you inflicted on our husband," she said, looking through the mirror with a look of curiosity on her face at Twilight's attire. "We were planning on giving you a month-long heat curse, but we've figured that would be a bad way to get to know you. Plus, from what we've heard, your punishment was far worse."

Twilight blushed furiously at this, looking embarrassed enough to want to hide under a bed for the rest of her life.

"Still, I must ask: just why did you do it?" Meia asked, trying to seem like she was interested in the conversation. Truthfully she was afraid she could be detected at any second or something, even though the magic of the portal would only show her Meia disguise. Thankfully they were not actually there, or else she'd be discovered for sure.

"Well, Meia," Twilight began, regaining a bit of her composure. "I w-was under the assumption that Spike had been married under some false pretense: that his flashy nature and looks got the sultan to practically "give" Asalah away."

"I assure you, it was nothing like that," Asalah said. "Spike consumed much wine and reacted strangely to it, from what I've heard. That is how his marriage to me started: he didn't know about the customary room-sharing proposal."

"Wait, Spike drank wine?" a voice said, and a mass of pink curly hairs seemed to obscure the screen for a moment.

"PINKIE PIE!" Twilight shouted as the pink pony looked through the mirror, her face taking up a good chunk of the space somehow.

"How was it, Spike? Was the wine good? Was it strong? Where was it from? Could you-," the pink earth pony was cut off by a hand clamping over her mouth and pulling her back: Applejack struggled to keep the rambunctious pony under control.

"Yes, Pinkie Pie, I had some wine: trust me when I say I won't again," Spike said, feeling the urge to face-palm.

"And why would that be?" another familiar voice said. Rainbow Dash walked into frame, practically dragging Fluttershy and Rarity along with her.

"Rainbow Dash! A lady does not just waltz right into a conversation! She must show elegance, poise-,"

"Ah, you must be Rarity," Maria said, looking over the unicorn with a mixture of interest and sincere civility.

Rarity stopped mid-stride, finally wrenching herself free from Rainbow's grasp to look at the Spreignish noble. "Would you be Maria Almareconraddo Del Rivioso?" the white unicorn asked, her voice sounding a bit breathless. Rainbow merely blew a bit of her mane out of her face and went off screen.

"The very same," was the reply. "Though, I guess it is Maria Almareconraddo Del Rivioso Dragul now."

"Just how did you know my name?" Rarity asked. She hadn't sent a letter or anything to this particular unicorn.

"Well, I guess the fact that Spike told me of having two close unicorn friends, and since we already were introduced to Twilight, it only made sense you would be Rarity," Maria said. "Besides, he told me you were all about high fashion and quite the designer, too."

"He did?" Rarity asked with surprise as Rainbow Dash came back in frame with a few more familiar faces. It was all so chaotic on the Equestrian end, with ponies bunching up together to see everypony else.

"Hiya Spike!" Applebloom said, looking at the dragon with her two friends, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo.

"Hello indeed, Spike the dragon," Zecora said, her smooth voice sending a slight chill up Asalah's spine. "Are you perhaps traveling by wagon?"

"No, Zecora: we're on a boat," Spike said, feeling introductions were in order once again. "Everypony, these are my wives: Asalah, Trixie, Meia and Maria," he said, once again gesturing to each and every pony when he said her name.

"Hello," everypony in the mirror said, though Fluttershy's hello was closer to a whisper than an actual greeting.

"Greetings," the four mares said, visibly relaxing: meeting so many new ponies at one time could be stressful for some, but these four were with their husband. No real need to feel tense, after all.

"Ladies, these are my friends from Equestria," Spike said to his wives, motioning to the mirror. "You have already met Twilight, Pinkie Pie and Rarity, but these three are Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy and Applejack."

"Howdy," Applejack said, tipping her hat after letting go of Pinkie Pie. "It's a pleasure ta make yer acquaintance."

"S'up?" Dash replied, reaching out a hand to grab Fluttershy's shirt, so as to pull her back into frame. She had been trying to sneak away, likely too intimidated by these four mares to want to say anything.

"H-h-hello," the shy pegasus said, gingerly waving through the mirror.

"These three fillies are Applebloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo," Spike continued, pointing out the three founding members of the Cutie Mark Crusaders.

"Spike, we ain't fillies no more: we're almost grown-up mares!" Applebloom said with a tone of indignity in her voice, though her smile said otherwise.

"And this is Zecora," Spike finished, pointing out the last of the gathered ponies through the glassy surface. The zebra in Equestria bowed politely.

"I trust your time has been well spent?" she asked. "I am sure I could have guided you along, if I had went."

"This journey will be only more difficult if more and more ponies join it," Meia said. "I am sure it would have been a delight to have you as a guide, Zecora."

The zebra nodded as three faces filled the screen once more. "So, Spike: I've heard you're going to be a dad. Is this true?" Sweetie Belle asked.

"Yes, though I do have some more news," Spike said, watching as the three fillies stepped back so everypony could see.

"Yes?" Celestia asked, having been content to remain quiet for the time being.

"We're pregnant: Meia and I," Maria said, gently patting her stomach. "We'll be due about a month after Trixie's due date."

"Spike here is going to have quite the herd of little ponies to look after," Trixie said with a chuckle, rubbing her own hands over her belly.

The ponies in screen exchanged smiles and squeals of glee at the news, with a rush of congratulations and questions on the name spilling forth like a tidal wave. They continued on for a short while, not really wanting to think of names until the foals were almost due. Celestia seemed the happiest, though when asked why, she merely stated something about "new royals in the palace once again", a cryptic a answer as ever.

So it was that with introductions now out of the way, the rest of the meeting could take place. Rarity was overtly fascinated by Maria's ties to several designers, through her parents of course.

"So you have definitely seen the Cheneighlt line of silken cloaks?" the white unicorn had asked.

"Seen? I own a few," Maria said, smiling. "Fashion may not be my biggest hobby, but it is a good thing to enjoy."

"So you're a descendent of a Roaman general?" Rainbow Dash asked as Rarity took a step back.

"Yes, Ms. Dash, though I think you'd like to hear more about it in pony," the Spreignish noblemare said.

After that, the questions became rather broad-based per pony, with Rarity, Dash and Pinkie Pie taking a liking to Maria right off the bat for their own reasons. Rarity desperately needed a mare with equal knowledge of fashion and design, and Rainbow Dash of course wanted to hear all about her family history. Pinkie Pie was ecstatic about how much Maria knew about parties and balls and masquerades, so much so that she wanted to throw them all a special party when they saw each other next.

Fluttershy and Zecora instantly took a liking to Asalah, who had never known of another zebra living in Equestria. It was a relaxing notion to have somepony who was likely related, though distantly, to be waiting for her when she arrived in her new home. Her exoticness also attracted the Cutie Mark Crusaders to her side, who planned on telling her all about Equestria and the ways to fit in. They had almost taken over the conversation with tips and tricks to befriending other ponies, right up until their older sisters (both blood-related and their adoptive) had nudged them off to the side.

After that is was Trixie who caught up with Twilight and Applejack for a while, with Applejack finding out that Trixie had indeed run across the Flim-Flam brothers through her travels. Settled down with their machine and making quality cider through a process highly similar to the Apple's own way: seemed they had learned their lesson after all. It was all very nice, though the conversation took a weird turn when Trixie asked Twilight for some more "private" reading material. Applejack had hurried the Cutie Mark Crusaders out of there at this, though their questions would undoubtedly be unending for a good while.

Meia had almost been entirely ignored until the very end, whereupon Twilight asked her a sudden question, startling her out of her own private thoughts..

"Where are you from, Meia?" the purple unicorn had asked after the others had left. They all had things to do and had already promised each other to start sending letters as soon as they could.

"T-Trotten," Meia said, surprised by the sudden question but immediately putting on her "game" face.

"Trotten, as in New Jersneigh?" Twilight seemed a bit too focused on this, but in a friendly way. That made it even weirder, like she was trying her hardest to find out everything she could on the pregnant mare.

"Yes, the very same," the disguised changeling queen replied.

"Do you miss your home?" the mare asked. "Spike did write back about how you seemed to be having problems with your family."

Meia was silent for a few moments. "Truthfully, no, I do not," she said. "My home is with my husband Spike: where he goes, I go." While this could have been a simple lie trying to placate a curious unicorn, Chrysalis truly meant it. In her mind, it was possible she might not go back to her kingdom, but chose to live with Spike: if he accepted her in her true form. The notion of revealing herself to him was always in the back of her mind, pervading her thoughts, but she forced it away every time.

Twilight smiled at this, the first genuine smile she had plastered across her face in a long time. "That is quite a romantic thing to say, Meia," she said. "I do so hope we can become good friends."

"As do I," Meia replied, suddenly curious as to why Twilight wanted to be her friend. This was the same unicorn who had ruined her chances at her brother's wedding: but she didn't know Meia was Chrysalis. The only pony, or ponies, one could say, that would be more angry with Chrysalis than Twilight would be Cadence, Shining Armor and Celestia. If she ever did reveal herself in the future, that would be the most awkward meeting _ever_.

"Well, I think it is time for some of us to depart from these delightful introductions," Celestia said, looking around at the remaining ponies. "I do hope that you will all keep in contact with each other through letters of friendship. Spike, do you have any qualms with this idea?"

"No, Celestia," he said, noticing how the sun was beginning to set more deeply on their end. "I was hoping for something along those lines. Do any of you have any objections?"

No," his wives said, with Meia being the last to do so. With a smile from Celestia, the mirror image winked out of existence as the sun finally slipped over the horizon.

"Well, I am exhausted," Trixie said with a yawn. Asalah and Maria nodded in agreement, giving Spike their goodnight kisses before heading off to their pillows. Trixie, with some difficulty due to her tired legs, managed to crawl over to Spike and give him a good lick across the lips before settling down.

Meia leaned across and kissed her husband goodnight, all of them too tired to do anything "fun" for the time being. Meeting and introducing oneself to so many new ponies sure did drain a pony.

"Goodnight," they all said to one another, with Meia sleeping on the outside of the group: she preferred it that way.

Night befell them as the skies became darker and darker, until the only lights were those of the small magical lanterns that gave the boat a slight glow. The light itself was magical, so as to repel mosquitoes.

Soon enough, everypony was fast asleep, along with their draconic husband. Except for Meia: she had the distinct feeling they were being watched...

A hunch that was proven to be correct when the slight humming of wing beats greeted her ears. Looking up, she saw a black shape land on the front of the boat without so much as making a sound. She knew that noise: she would always know that noise. Getting up quietly so as to not wake the others, she walked over and looked down at the kneeling figure.

"I bring you a message, my queen," the changeling drone said. It looked different than the normal ones, but the last time Chrysalis had checked, there had been no new mutations in their species.

"Speak, my drone: what news do you bring?" Meia dared not changed her disguise, for fear of discovery, but she let her true voice shine through.

"There are events happening in the kingdom beyond our control, my queen," the drone said. "The last several batches of young are different than what we have been for the longest time."

"Different in what way?" Chrysalis was no stranger to change, but her species changing was indeed big news.

"They are stronger, sleeker, with longer wings and tails," the drone said. "They fly less erratically, with a more pronounced buzz. Their fangs are gone, replaced by rows of normal incisors, and their horns have curved forwards. Bony ridges along their spines, and as I understand it, their eyes are less compound then before: they have irises, though many."

"This is indeed troubling," the queen said. "We must remain vigilant against outside threats. If any ponies were to learn of our current evolution or worse, my plans, we would be destroyed. You may go now, but be careful: there are eyes watching our every move."

"Yes, my queen," the drone said, flying up and out of sight. Meia continued to look up at the night sky, thoughts blazing through her mind like a grassland wildfire.

Her species was not one to change so rapidly or greatly in so short a span of time. She knew the princess of the night, Luna, was watching her kind. She was still undetected, and as of now, the changeling drone had made no mention of any security breaches. Her entire hive had no idea where she was save for a select few messenger drones, like the one that had just visited her. For all intents and purposes, she was still in hiding, plotting and planning for a new and glorious age for their kind.

Truthfully, though her kind did not know it, her plans had taken a back-seat. No, scratch that: they had been dissolved to the point of almost not existing. She was too focused on staying with Spike, staying with the dragon she felt love for, that she would not risk the safety of her foal or its father for some grandiose plan.

But when would she reveal herself to him? Would the others turn on her, or would they understand that true love had indeed conquered all of her hate and prejudices? She knew she would survive the encounter physically, but emotionally, spiritually... she didn't know. Nopony could see the future for what it was, as it was always changing: just as her species now was.

As she walked back to her spot by the group, Meia rubbed her hand over her belly. Would her foal be like this? A new breed of changeling, combined with the draconic features of its father?


	24. Ruins and Dangerous Company

Chapter Twenty Four

Ruins and Dangerous Company

The sun rose early the morning when the boat reached its final destination. As was the way with rivers, especially large ones, the waters eventually reached the point where no boat could travel it anymore. So, getting off in a small town and charting passage with a small caravan, Spike and his wives crossed the border of Egypt and found themselves in Northern Sudan.

Now, contrary to popular belief, Egypt was not the only place to have large pyramids in the world. Sudan had many, many pyramids, though none quite so massive as those in Giza. The reason they were often overlooked was simply due to the fact that they had been long-ago pillaged: the golden tops of the pyramids long since carted off and melted down. As it was, they all had the distinct shape of a cone missing the last several yards of the top, almost like a tall, three-dimensional trapezoid.

As luck would have it, ponies lived in the shadows of these colossal structures, and they even offered guided tours of the monuments of the past.

It was an opportunity too good to pass up.

"Too bad we couldn't have gone to the pyramids of Giza: I have heard they are spectacular," Asalah said as they stood together for a group photo. The camera's light went off, set off by Trixie's magic.

"Well, that would have been quite the detour, don't you think?" Spike asked as he retrieved the device.

"Well, I suppose," the zebra said, following the others to a shaded spot. "Still, to think such great monuments were built without the use of magic is astounding, don't you think."

"I would certainly agree with that: such a feat of engineering is an amazing accomplishment," Maria said, twirling her small umbrella above her head. "Magic is a most useful tool when one has it."

"Ooh, get our picture by that small dirigible!" Meia said, rushing over to the aforementioned blimp. It was not very large: enough to seat more than a few ponies and their supplies, but nothing more. It was also rather crude when compared to the machine Trixie had said she had journeyed across the Barnlantic in, with obviously rudimentary steering elements.

"All right," Spike said, hefting the pack on his back. The supplies they had bought after the boat trip were all they had, Spike having sent back all of the excessive clothes, valuables and souvenirs to Equestria. They each carried a large pack, though Spike's was by far the largest: you couldn't expect three pregnant mares to do all the heavy lifting, now could you? Asalah was not exactly a broad-shouldered mare of West Germareny either, so her pack was only slightly larger than the other mare's.

The four mares lined up next to the dirigible and smiled, posing like they were college roommates. Spike smiled in return and brought up the camera, snapping a few quick pictures. Maybe someday he'd ask Twilight just how these were built: he knew well enough how they worked. Not too different from a regular hot-air balloon, though quite a bit faster and the more streamlined shape helped with this.

"Spike, what is that?" Maria asked, pointing to the horizon. A large cloud of dust was growing closer and closer, obscuring a good portion of the sky.

"Sandstorm!" a pony shouted, rushing past the dragon and his wives, leaping into the dirigible and beginning to crank some levers.

"What?" Spike asked, rushing over to the excited pony.

"Sandstorm, you fool! They are rare around here, but they still happen!" the pony shouted, a slightly crazed look in his eyes. It was the look of fear, of knowing something bad was going to happen.

"What do we do?" Trixie asked, a worried look in her eyes. There was no shelter around the pyramids: surely they would be buried alive.

"Get on board: I'm going over it!" the earth pony said, cutting a few ropes with a small machete. Without a word of protest Spike's wives jumped on board, with Spike bringing up the rear.

"What about the rest of the caravan?" Spike shouted to the earth pony, who had just finished cutting the final rope. Soon enough, they were airborne, rising rapidly.

"They've taken shelter in that canyon!" the pony said, pointing to a small crevice off a ways. It was not far, maybe a five-minute walk, but at the rate the sandstorm was approaching, Spike's family would never have made it.

The four mares looked out as the ground dropped from beneath them, their ascent going faster than they would have liked. Rather, more so than two would have liked: Asalah and Maria had never experienced the feeling of flight. Trixie had been on an airship such as this before, and Meia... well, a changeling had wings after all.

"We're not gonna make it!" the earth pony shouted as the cloud of sand drew closer. He was cranking knobs and flipping levers like mad, a few errant bits of steam leaking from some pipes.

"What do you need me to do?" Spike asked, his voice a shout as they rose higher and higher.

"You're a dragon! Fly under and try giving us a push! If anything, that will reduce the weight in the dirigible and make it easier to rise!"

Spike did as the pony said: leaping over the side, he unfurled his wings and flew upwards, placing his hands on the underside of the dirigible hull. With as much strength as he could put into his wings, he pushed upwards, feeling the speed of ascension increase in the dirigible slightly. He continued to push downwards with his wigs, each flap creating the force necessary to push more and more.

The sand came closer and closer, a seething mass of silica bids flying fast enough to smooth wood like sandpaper. Still Spike pushed and pushed, his wings flapping harder than he ever had had them move before. If he had been on the ground, anypony standing next to him would have been blown backwards, so strong were the gusts generated by his leathery extensions.

Just as he felt his wings begin to tire, Spike saw the cloud of sand pass mere inches from the tip of his tail. Errant grains of sand blasted against his scales, the feeling oddly similar to having pinpricks stuffed into his scales, like when he had served as Rarity's pincushion all those years ago.

He looked out over the horizon and saw almost nothing but a billowing cloud of sand stretching everywhere. He turned his head to see the sand cloud continue its advance on the landscape, like a thundercloud rolling across the plains. Feeling his wings tire from all of his exertion, he let go of the dirigible and flew up and over the side, collapsing on the floor of the craft. His wings lay stretched out, too sore from the constant flapping to retreat back to his side. It was as if he had been a hummingbird for a few minutes, though his sore flight muscles told him it was more like an hour.

"That was too close," he muttered as his wives rushed over to him, faces expressing concern for his well-being. To be perfectly honest, as Spike was wont to do, the dragon was fine: just a bit exhausted from over-exerting himself.

"Thank you, sir dragon," the earth pony said, wiping some sweat from his brow. "I was certain we were going to be swept up in those sands."

"What would have happened if we had?" Trixie asked.

"The gears would have been clogged by sand and the craft would have been filled in a matter of minutes: the weight would have sent us back to the ground like a stone." Well, nopony needed to know what would have happened after that: not even Spike could survive being crushed like an ant and then smothered by hundreds of pounds of sand.

"Glad to be of service," Spike said as Meia and Asalah began massaging his wing muscles: it felt very good, with their nimble fingers working into the crevices of every sore muscle under his flexible scales. Maria had fetched him some water as the other three mares helped him sit up. "By the way, I never caught your name, sir."

"Wells, mister dragon. Hoofington Gallway Wells." The earth pony held out a hand, slightly covered in grease from some leaking pipes.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Wells," Spike said, shaking the stallion's offered hand. "I am Spike Dragul, and these lovely mares are my brides. You're not from around here, are you?"

"Your assumption would be correct, Mr. Dragul. I hail from Equineland."

"Ah, I thought your accent was familiar," Spike said with a smile. "I have a good friend in Equestria who hails from Trottingham himself."

So they talked of home, their memories of friends and family far away from their current location. Then they discussed what they were doing in Sudan: Spike's journey, and Wells, it seemed, was on a combination of a research project and sabbatical of sorts. He was here to collect samples from some pyramids and bring them back to Equineland, who wanted to verify that the structures had indeed been made by hand and not by magic. The sands soon passed away beneath them, but they found themselves far from the pyramids of northern Sudan: in fact, they were mere speck on the northern horizon.

"Where are we now?" Trixie asked as she looked out into the distance. "Everything looks different now, more so than when we took off."

"Ethiopia, I would guess," Wells said, getting up from his resting spot to push some buttons. "I would set us down here, save for one problem."

"What is that?" Meia asked, curious at the tone of fear in the pony's voice. He didn't sound very happy to be away from a sandstorm that would have been the death of them all.

"Because of him," the pony said.

"Who?" Maria asked when Wells did not clarify who "him" was.

"Him," the pony repeated, pointing out several shapes below them. Spike and his wives peeked over to see they were... growing larger. They were unmistakably dirigibles, but their color, compared to Wells' own grayish-blue, were reddish in color. The airships themselves, as they rose, appeared to have a small symbol on them: a spear jutting through the head of what seemed to be a lion.

"Wells... who is this "him" you speak of?" Spike asked. He had a really bad feeling about all of this: they had just barely escaped a sandstorm, only now to be attacked by... what? Pirates? Bandits? Who in the world was coming up to meet them?

"Warlord Undi's son, Bara," Wells said. "He has his own fleet of small dirigibles, and he's like a pirate, murderer and thug all rolled into one. He kills whomever he wants with no repercussions. He plunders, he rapes and he razes villages whenever he gets bored: he is the living persona of a madpony."

"Sounds like quite the character," the dragon said, blood rushing through his body when he heard the word 'rape'. Draconic side springing into action again, but with the mostly wooden airship he was on, too much fire would set them all ablaze. "Can we outrun him?" he asked, his energy returned after his respite: nothing like knowing your family was in danger to get somedragon's blood pumping.

"I am afraid not: he will catch us before we cross the border again in a few minutes. I do not know how he saw us, but I do know that he will not dare to cross the border into Kenya. His father has forbidden it, and Undi is the only creature in the world Bara fears." Wow, Undi sounded even worse than Bara, if Bara was afraid of his own father.

"Wait, how exactly do you know this Bara and Undi?" Trixie asked. "Have you met them before? They sound absolutely despicable." She was taking all of this normally distressful information rather well: all of Spike's wives were, for some reason.

"They are the rulers of this part of Africa, ranging from northern Sudan to Somalia and Ethiopia. I have been robbed by them before: they took the only thing I had of value, besides my life." He sounded rather sad, as if the mere memory caused him significant pain.

"What was that?" Asalah asked.

"A golden locket of my parents," Wells said, a note of anger entering his voice. "It was all I had left of them. All that was left of my family, and Bara took it: gave it to his damned second in command as a joke."

"Will this second in command be on one of those ships?" Spike asked. "I'd rather avoid a fight if we could."

"You won't avoid this, dragon," Wells said, apparently not hearing the question. "I have seen them slaughter villages from on high in my ship. The screaming as they burned huts, usually with ponies still inside them: I could hear it from up here. They are monsters in pony's clothing, beasts that have learned to walk and talk like us. They will rob us if we surrender, or else they will kill us and rape your wives, and THEN kill them." He sounded very serious, so much so that his own anger fueled Spike's like a drug.

At these words, Asalah looked around fearfully, not knowing what to do. The others seemed to mirror her actions, looking somewhere, anywhere, for a place to hide.

"Then a fight it is, then," Spike said, rising to his feet. "They'll think we are weak, defenseless up here all by ourselves. We'd best prepare."

"What of us?" Asalah asked, looking at the others. "We cannot hope to repel boarders, and if you fly off, any ponies that get here will surely kill us."

"Then they won't get close enough to board us, Asalah," Spike said softly. "I want you to hide behind the supplies: they'll be thick enough to stop anything short of a ballista bolt."

As they moved around, preparing, the dirigibles of Bara rose to their height, high above the ground. They were close enough to see the faces of each other just as Trixie, the last of Spike's wives, hid behind the supplies. Jeers from the crew, some waving glinting machetes in the light, echoed through the air.

"Get ready," Wells said to Spike. Wells held with him a club, crude and perfect in case the thugs got on board. "I'm not going to raise the flag."

"What flag?"

"The flag of surrender," Wells said as the other floating ships came closer and closer.

"Ah, Wells, I did not expect to see you here," a voice called out in passable Equinish. Spike looked from his spot to see a zebra speaking, an odd helmet covering his mane. He was tall, lean but strong-looking, like a runner who also practiced with weights or something. Given his profession, it likely involved a lot of bloody murder.

"Yeah, well, you know me: just passing through," Wells shouted back, making sure to not come out into view.

"You have not raised your flag: are we, your friends, not invited on board?" Bara called out, almost in what could have passed for a somber tone if his face wasn't twisted into a malicious grin. He had a scar running along the entirety of his jaw, giving him a rather dangerous look: not like he needed one, given the murderous-looking thugs behind him.

"Not today, Bara: I can't let you on board," the earth pony replied.

There was silence as the ships leveled out next to each other, with the pirates looking confused. It seemed they had never been refused a request from their leader, as nopony was making a sound. The tall zebra looked out at the ship, the gears working in his head. Bara made a motion, and suddenly a dozen crossbow bolts thudded into the side of the dirigible. Not the inflatable section: anything valuable would be destroyed if the craft fell to the earth like a stone. Not to mention the passengers: he wanted to take a closer look at what Wells was hiding, and punish him for it.

"Jeez, that was quick," Spike said as Wells ducked behind a small crate, his previous spot sporting three crossbow bolts sticking into where his shoulder had been.

"I told you they don't mess around," Wells said, peeking up over his crate to have a crossbow bolt whiz through his mane. He ducked back down to cheers from the thugs.

Spike looked up as they drew closer, fewer and fewer crossbow bolts thudding into the hull. Either these thugs didn't have many bolts or were terrible shots, though the former seemed the case. Instead, they were moving all along the floating craft, the small cabin underneath the inflatable craft a seething mass of zebras.

"Now they will try and board us," Wells said, standing on steady hooves. One of the other airships came around to the side and several grappling hooks were thrown out: their aim was straight and true.

As soon as they landed and anchored in, Spike and Wells rushed in and started cutting the ropes. No more bolts flew in their direction, though a machete did swing its way past Spike's face, embedding itself in the wood behind him. By the time half of the hooks were gone, the airship had pulled itself close enough for some to swing across. Which they did, cackling like mad with their rope in one hand and a machete in another, glee spread across their faces.

The first one to land received a quick kick from Spike right in the chest, sending him flying backwards. He flew over the side, screaming as more hooks from another airship latched onto the other side of Well's dirigible.

"Sonufa-" Spike said as he caught the machete of a snarling pirate, using his tail to sweep the legs out from underneath the nasty zebra. With a swift kick of his foot, he shoved the pirate away, just in time for another boarder to land on him. The unevenness of his comrade upset his balance, causing the pirate to fall backwards, his hand still holding onto a rope. Just as he swung away, a crossbow bolt thudded into his neck, a friendly-fire incident that made the zebra let go of his rope in surprise. With luck, he'd be dead before he hit the ground. The same could not be said for the comrade he had stepped on, who rolled off and fell screaming onto the plains below.

Just as the last of the boarders from the one were repelled and the ropes cut, the boarders from the other ship ran at Spike and Wells. Wells smashed one up the side of the head with his club, sending him flying back into another's machete. Spike dodged another machete strike as he saw a glint of gold on one of the boarder's necks. It was the locket Wells had talked about.

Wells saw it too and went wild. With reckless abandon he rushed the zebra, smashing at anypony in his way. Just as he reached him, a machete pierced his side and he fell to the floor of the dirigible, crying out in pain.

"No!" Spike shouted, rushing forward.

"Stop, or they die!" a voice said. Spike stopped in his tracks as the three remaining zebras stood straighter, one with a crossbow bolt aiming for... his wives! They were still cowering behind the supplies, though from this angle, they were perfect targets.

"Now," Bara the zebra said, his helmet glinting in the sunlight. "We should all just relax and have a friendly little chat now, shouldn't we? We wouldn't want those lovely mares of yours getting hurt now, would we sir dragon?"

"How do you know they are with me?" Spike asked, the fire inside him rising. This zebra's smug face was alight with a madness that made him want to eat the bastard, just so there was no way he could ever hurt anypony again.

"Wells was never one for relationships, dragon. Every time I have been so generously "given" his supplies, he was alone: the last time, all he had was this locket," he said, pointing to the gold around his second in command's neck. "A small trinket, worthless for sure. Just like his life has been, I assure you. No pony would ever want a foal to turn out like him, I-,"

He was interrupted by a shout. Wells had leaped up off of the deck at the mention of "worthless" and now jumped on the back of the one holding the crossbow, which went off. It went straight into the head of the third zebra, straight through his eye and into his brain: the spray of blood squirted into the air as he slumped over, twitching.

With one hand holding the zebra's crossbow arm, Wells used the other to grab the locket from around his neck and pull. It came free from the stallion's neck, who fell backwards from the extra weight on his back. Wells shouted with triumph as he let go of the stallion, both of whom disappeared over the side of the airship.

Spike shouted in anger and rushed the last one left, obviously Bara. The zebra pulled his machete from his scabbard but had it knocked away by Spike's tail. With a roar and rush of hot air, Spike's mouth let loose a small torrent of flame, setting the zebra's clothes aflame.

With a shout of surprise, the zebra stumbled backwards, his hands barely arresting his fall. Spike placed a foot on the stallion's chest and looked him in the eyes.

"My father will have your head for this!" the zebra shouted through the pain. He was still smiling, the bastard. "He will rape your wives to death! Kill your families! Burn your lands!" The zebra had no idea just who Spike was related to, but he still made the threats. Threats he rehearsed every night before drinking and killing and slaughtering innocent folk as if it were a game. To him, it was: he lived for it, the thrill of being in power and running the show when his father wasn't around.

"He will try," Spike said simply, giving a good push with his foot. With a scream, a combination of pain, anger and madness, the zebra plummeted away from the airship, a trail of smoke following him. Spike looked over the side to see him go, his eyes suddenly turning to...

"Wells?" he said in disbelief, reaching down to grab the Equinish stallion. "Wells, you lucky bastard!" As luck would have it, some of the crossbow bolts in the hull had caught onto the pony's clothing and he lay there, suspended and holding onto the tiny golden locket like a pony possessed.

With a great heave, Spike pulled the bleeding pony back on board, just in time to see one of the airships be replaced by another. "Asalah! Do you know how to stop the bleeding?"

"I... I should, I-I think," the zebra said, rushing over to help Spike set down the stallion. Meia pushed the dead zebra with crossbow bolt through his eye socket over the side. "What of the other airships?" she asked as she tore a bit of errant cloth from Wells' side and pressed it against the wound in his side.

"I'm the only one who can fly this thing now, so Meia and the others will have to take care of it," Spike said as he rushed over to the controls.

"And how are we supposed to do that?" Maria asked. "Do you expect us to breathe fire and fly out to meet them? All of us are pregnant, I remind you!"

"Well, you ARE unicorns: use some magic!" Spike didn't mean to sound snarky, but now was not the time to argue semantics.

At that moment in time, the entire fabric of the universe seemed to slow to a stop. The Earth stopped revolving, comets froze in place, and the thermonuclear reaction in the sun's core stopped like it was a flashlight that had run out of batteries. Three of these mares had magic and could have used it at any time in the past, and only now did somepony realize it, and they weren't even a pony?! Discord himself would have suffered an aneurysm from the sheer chaos of it all.

With a renewed look in their eyes, the three magic-wielders rushed over to the side where the newer ship was coming from, Trixie threw up a magical barrier just as another crossbow volley traveled towards them. The sharp bolts bounced harmlessly off of the magic shield as Maria and Meia pointed their horns towards the airship, taking aim not at the wood, but the dirigible itself.

"What is the weakest point? We can't use fire spells!" Meia shouted as another volley of crossbow bolts bounced off Trixie's shield: a slight crack showed in the magic material.

"Aim for the balloon part!" Spike said as he steered the airship away to avoid sliding up against the other airship from whence Bara had come from. The sudden motion made the ropes latched onto his own dirigible snap, letting the nearly-crewless craft float away. They were almost there, the border was so close...

As if two rapid-fire cannons were built into the dirigible's hull, Maria and Meia fired off spells, each a simple cutting spell that formed knives in mid-air. It did the trick, with the suddenly-materializing metal piercing the sides of the gaseous containers inside the pirate airship. With hisses and tearing noises, the dirigible began to lose altitude, all the while the evil zebras inside shouting and screaming.

The last dirigible turned back, just as the marker dividing the lands of Ethiopia and Kenya came into view. It wasn't much, but the change in the landscape was enough for them all to know they were now safe. Perhaps they also wished to live through this ordeal: their boss was dead and his father was likely to be very angry.

"Meia, Maria: please help Asalah tend to Wells' wounds," Spike said, slumping against the controls. He had barely remembered any of his flight training under Luna, since she had a personal hot-air balloon. Why did the controls have to be so similar and yet do so many different things? "Anypony else hurt?"

"Not a scratch," his four brides said as Trixie lowered the magical shield. She too slumped over: to make such a strong shield last, even for a short while, was taxing.

"I must say, that was quite a defensive spell," Wells said, coughing slightly at the pain. "Where did you learn that?"

"Equestria," Trixie said as she crawled over to Spike's side, her mane all tussled from the sheer amount of effort she had put into the spell. "There are a lot of libraries: one of the better ones is in Ponyville." She smiled at Spike when she said this: perhaps she was as anxious to see Ponyville again as he was.

"I have heard the libraries of Baghdad are one of the best collections in the entire world," Wells replied as the three attending mares helped fix his bandages. "I've never gone there, of course, but word gets around on the grapevine, as they say."

"We'll have to go there some time," Spike said, feeling exhausted, both from the ordeal and the stress of said ordeal. He looked up to see the last of the pirate dirigibles fade away into the distance: for the time being, vast expanses of uninhabited ecosystems lay out before them. "We'll land in a while, if that is okay with you, Mr. Wells: as soon as we find a city or town. I don't want to land where some predator might try and snack on us in this state."

"Of course, Mr. Dragul, of course," the earth pony replied. "For now, let us rest: the winds won't push us much further than this, and right now I could use some..."

He fell asleep, the exhaustion of the fight and his wound finally taking their toll. Spike closed his eyes as well, glad the airship was barely moving at all, or else who knew where they'd end up.


	25. Letters of a Safari

Chapter Twenty Five

Letters of a Safari

When Spike awoke next, the sun was still high in the sky. He couldn't have been asleep for more than an hour or two, though the clouds that had rolled in had definitely not been there when he fell asleep.

"Well, that wasn't a very long nap," a voice said. Spike looked over to see Wells sitting up, his back against a crate as he finished bandaging up his side. The cloth looked clean, so at least the bleeding must have stopped.

"Well, I wasn't that tired anyway," Spike said, looking around. Asalah and Meia were grooming Maria's mane, and Trixie merely rolled over in her sleep, muttering something about "bottles". Maybe she was thinking about when it came time to nurse her-, no, _their_ foal.

"I thanked your wives for their assistance," Wells said, nodding in their direction. "Without their care, I would have undoubtedly bled out in my sleep." The pony did look a bit pale under his pelt, though he would have undoubtedly been paler had they done nothing.

"It was the least we could do for the pony who saved us from that sandstorm," Maria replied as Meia gently bunched up parts of her mane into braids.

"Yes, well, don't count on being saved for too long. Undi won't be too happy his only son is dead," Wells said softly, examining the locket in his hands.

"His son was a villain, just like you described: how much worse could Undi be?" Spike asked.

"Much, much worse," Wells said, slowly getting to his hooves and walking towards the controls. Fiddling with a few knobs and levers, the craft began to slowly descend.

"I see a village down there," Asalah said, looking over the side as the airship continued its downward movement.

"Yes, we are in the lands of the Marsabit tribe," Wells said, pulling another lever.

"Marsabit?" Spike asked, scratching a bit. Some of his scales were beginning to shed, but for the moment they stuck fast in with the rest of them.

"Yes, the Marsabit tribe," Wells repeated. "A tribe of zebras who specialize in captive breeding of local birds: they are quite good at it. They also excel in potion-making and have a fascinating linguistic vocalization.

"A ling-what?" Meia asked, smoothing out her clothes as Trixie rose with a yawn.

"To put it simply, they speak in rhyme," Wells said. "Truly, to be among them is like stepping into another world. If you have no idea how to rhyme or understand it, you might not want to say anything."

Two thoughts struck Spike at this, with the foremost being asked first. "How do you know all of this?" Spike asked the earth pony stallion as the craft gently touched down on the surface of the ground.

"I've traded with them before," Wells said simply, wincing slightly as he stepped away from the controls and grabbed some rope. "Help me tie this craft down, would you please? I need to see their shaman."

Spike did as he was asked, helping strap the machine down to the ground with a few hard-driven stakes and a few large rocks here and there. As he did, though, he couldn't help but mull over in his head what Wells had said: these zebras spoke in rhyme.

"Is this Zecora's native tribe? Her ponies?" Spike wondered as his wives got off the airship. They were dressed in loose robes and veils similar to a turban in design, though the colors were very pale. It helped disperse the sun's harsh rays and make sure the wearers didn't suffer heatstroke.

Wells pointed out towards a cluster of trees in the distance. "There is their main village: we'll be there in an hour or so."

"Are you sure you should walk with your injuries? Wouldn't it have been easier to just fly there and land the dirigible nearer the village?" Trixie asked in curiosity.

"Last time I tried that, I had three spears thud into the bottom of the hull," Wells said with a weak laugh. "They don't mind strangers, but I'm afraid my craft was too alien for them to just accept like one would a carriage. Even now I don't think they'd let me "park" my airship so close. Don't worry: it won't be long."

So they began to walk, Spike carrying the camera around his neck, snapping pictures as they went. A weaver bird here, a wattled crane there: heck, even a few rhinos off in the distance. Even farther off, a few giraffes looked in his direction before turning away: they seemed to be heading for a river even farther off.

As he snapped more and more pictures, Spike realized his mind was off somewhere else. These Marsabit zebras could indeed be Zecora's tribe, but how was he going to ask without sounding like a complete buffoon? Even more pressing, how was Asalah going to react to these zebras? She had confided in him that she had only known zebras living in cities like other ponies: these were possibly related to her ancestral ponies.

Any historian or archaeologist worth their salt knew that the zebra race evolved from pony-like ancestors that migrated from a place in Central Asia or somewhere close by: nopony knew the definitive answer. They were cousins of earth ponies, though how close yet remained unsolved. They could regularly interbreed and produce viable offspring, though that wasn't too common. Most zebras stayed in Africa, after all: it was their home and many just didn't want to leave.

Spike mused on this information until he gently bumped into Maria, who had stopped. Softly apologizing, he looked around: they were already at the village, with Wells speaking with a rather old zebra a ways off from the rest of them.

"Spike, come on over: I'd like you to meet somepony," Wells said, looking back at the dragon. After Spike walked forward with his wives in tow, Wells looked between the dragon and the elderly zebra.

"Spike, this is Kalahari, the chieftain of the tribe," Wells said.

"Hello, sir," Spike said, politely offering his hand to the elderly zebra like any gentledrake would. Just then, though, a thought occurred to him: what if they didn't know how to shake hands? What if there was some local custom where they had to stomp their feet, or worse, that shaking one's hand meant a marriage proposal to one's daughter? Oh no, not agai-,

His thoughts were cut off by Kalahari shaking his outstretched hand. "A pleasure meeting you, young drake," the zebra said. "It seems your thoughts are very much awake."

"Oh, yes," Spike said: had his thoughts really been that transparent? "If I may introduce you, these are my wives," Spike said, redacting his hand and gesturing towards the four curious mares behind him. Some of the local zebra mares had approached them and were poking at their unusual clothes, as they themselves wore simple loincloths and toga-like clothes. "Maria, Meia, Trixie, and Asalah," Spike said, each mare nodding in return when her name was spoken.

"Quite the herd you have, master dragon," Kalahari said, smiling again like a kindly old grandfather. "Please, allow me to roll out the welcome wagon." He raised his hands up and gave three short claps, and suddenly Spike, Wells and the four mares were completely carried off by dozens of zebras. For some reason, they were all mares, though the fact that no stallions could be possibly feeling up his own wives put Spike's mind at ease.

Soon enough, as if in the blink of an eye, they were all around a fire, rather plain rugs underneath their posteriors so as to not terribly dirty themselves. The ground around them was bare, as if the surface had been compacted for a very long time by the movement of countless hooves. Wells was whisked away to a small hut, where an even older-looking zebra was waiting for him.

"Worry not for your friend," Kalahari said as he wobbled his way towards Spike and his wives. He used a small stick almost like a crutch: he was old, give him a break. "A simple task, it will be, for his body to mend."

"Thank you, sir," Spike asked, glad he had grown up around Zecora: he could at least understand rhyming better than somepony or somedragon with no experience. "How long have you known Wells?"

"Oh, a few years, I believe," the zebra said. "To live in this place, so far from home, is quite a feat to achieve."

"Yes, well, after this, I think he'll be heading back," Spike said as three zebras came by with a few bowls of fruit. Thanking the mares, Spike's wives eagerly began to eat the sweet-smelling fruits: Spike snagged one with his tail and popped it into his mouth.

"Sir, if I may ask, where are all of your stallions?" Maria asked after she had finished her small mango. Indeed, besides Kalahari and the shaman now helping Wells, they hadn't seen a single zebra stallion in the entire village.

"Out into the fields, I sent them. Some to farm, and some to investigate an airship with a strange emblem," Kalahari asked, apparently not offended that a mare had spoken in his presence: obviously culturally different than Asalah's own zebras.

"That would likely belong to the thugs that attacked us," Meia said with a small scowl as she reflexively rubbed her hand over her belly. "Spike and Wells drove them off: their leader, the one called Bara, perished in the attack."

"Ah, this Bara I know," the chieftain said with a small scowl of his own. "I still find it hard some parents can let such an evil grow."

"Have you had problems with him and his zebras in the past?" Spike asked as his wives sidled up next to him. He hoped those fruits didn't have an aphrodisiac in them, or else things might get very embarrassing for them.

"Yes, they have been troublesome before, though for now they trouble us no more," Kalahari said. "I would like to ask why you are here, sir Spike. In fact, I believe all of your reasons must be alike."

Spike looked at Meia and Trixie, as Asalah and Maria were whispering about one particularly juicy fruit they were sharing between themselves. His two attentive wives nodded: they could trust this zebra.

"Well sir, you see, I'm sort of on a journey around the world," Spike said. "I'm heir to a seat of power in the lands of Equestria, and one of the requirements was that I marry at least three ponies to help expand my line. I got four," he added with a slightly sheepish smile.

"Ah, Equestria I have heard much about," Kalahari said. "I wanted to visit sometime in my youth, but at home sadly, there was a drought."

"That reminds me, sir," Spike said, thinking about visitors to Equestria. "Would you by chance happen to know of a zebra named Zecora?"

"You have seen her?" the stallion asked, his eyes widening in surprise. "When? Where? Was there anything wrong with her fur?"

"Wait, what?" Spike asked. "No, last time I saw her, her pelt was just fine. She lives in Equestria now, and has been since I was much younger."

"Oh, well now I know where she has gone," Kalahari said, wiping some errant sweat from his brow. "But enough of that: the past is something we do not usually dwell on."

"Why is that?" Meia asked.

"I believe I can answer for Kalahari," a voice said. Several heads turned to see Wells emerge from the shaman's hut, looking quite a bit better than he had when he went in. "You see, this "Zecora" of which you speak, is likely his daughter, also named Zecora. She left the tribe many years ago to find her own place in this world."

"Zecora is Kalahari's daughter?" Spike asked, feeling about as shocked as he had when he found out about his own marriage requirements. "Then... why doesn't he want to talk about her?"

"The Marsabit zebras believe you take away the power of a ponies' name when you say it too many times," Wells said. "They are just fine when others say names of those who are not there, but to repeatedly say somepony's name, especially a dead or far-away pony, is to show them a bit of disrespect. Nothing terrible, of course, but something somepony would consider a tad rude in their own culture."

"Oh, well I guess that makes sense," Asalah said, realizing just how different zebras on the same continent could be. She had been braiding Trixie's mane during this time, with Maria fixing her own with a bit of magic.

"Kalahari, if I may ask," Spike said, another thought crossing his mind. "I am a dragon, a relatively rare sentient creature. Yet, you don't seem that off-put or weirded out by my appearance. Why?"

"Simple, you oh-so-rare drake," Kalahari said with a smile. "Many others like you have made a similar, if simple, mistake. We do not see what one looks like as a judge of one's being. To judge on the inside, and have such a realization, to many, is quite freeing."

"Ah, I see," said Spike, just now understanding why he felt such a kindred spirit in Kalahari. He didn't judge others based on appearance or the way they seemed: it was all on how they acted and who they were, inside and out.

"It is getting late, my honored guests," the elderly zebra said, rising to his hooves. Indeed it was: night was beginning to fall and already zebras could be seen approaching the village: the stallions who had been absent were returning. "You will sleep in the central hut: it has less pests." He made a motion for them to follow him, which they all did.

"Pests?' Spike whispered to Wells.

"Oh, you know: ants, flies, the occasional snake," Wells said. He saw the look in Spike's eyes. "Don't worry: out here, poisonous ones are so rare it's a miracle if you find one."

"Why's that?" the drake asked as they entered the hut after Kalahari. It was rather roomy, and the wooden bed-like structures were off the ground. Spike set the pack he had brought with him on the ground next to the largest one.

"A disease wiped many of them out a few years ago: nopony knows why," Wells replied, thanking Kalahari. He talked with the zebra as Spike turned to his own wives.

"Well, there are five beds total, and unless one of you is willing to sleep on the floor, I'll be sharing with one of you," he said.

"Well, Maria had you last time, Meia before that, and I myself before her," Trixie said, counting themselves off of her fingers. "I guess that means it is Asalah's turn: wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, yes," Asalah said, her mane done up in a rather unique and beautifully braided pattern. "I wouldn't mind at all."

Just as they finished the decision-making process on who would sleep where, Kalahari bid them goodnight and left the hut. Wells walked over to them, his hand fiddling his necklace once again.

"Well, he said it was a three day's ride from here to the coast, as you did say you wished to go to Maredagascar from here," the earth pony said.

"That is correct," Meia said as she climbed up into her own bed. "By ride, do you mean the airship?"

"No, by ride I mean we'll be taking the local means," Wells said.

"And that would be...?" Spike asked.

"Elephants: there's a small tribe of them nearby that loves to take travelers across the plains." Wells stretched a bit before surveying his bed: clearly he was wondering just how hard or soft it would be.

"There is?" Maria asked from up in her bed, clearly astonished such a thing was real. "I thought only elephants in India did that sort of thing."

"These elephants learned to do this many years ago: from what I hear, it was an alicorn who informed them of such a lucrative means of gaining money and food," Wells said as he finally climbed into his bed.

"Is anypony here not too tired yet?" Spike asked. His wives shook their heads: they were still rather awake. "Good: I think now would be a good time for those letters you all promised to send."

Retrieving the ink, quills and papers from his pack, Spike equally handed them out to his four wives. Settling with his own, he began to write.

"_Dear Celestia, things sure do have a rather odd way of fixing themselves when a problem arises. Earlier today we were assaulted by bandits after being saved by a Mr. H. G. Wells, who used his airship to save us from a sandstorm. We fended off the pirates, one of whom just so happened to have a priceless heirloom of Well's that they had stolen before. We are all okay now, though Well sustained an injury getting his heirloom back and is talking of going back home to Equineland."_

He paused for a moment, deciding it'd be best not to tell Celestia about Bara's threats. _"In a few days I'll be sending back anything I've collected since my last "deposit", if you will, and much of it will be or Fluttershy, as she is the one making a collage on animals, I believe?"_

_"Sincerely, Spike Dragul."_ As Spike finished with his letter, Maria was going over her own, the thoughts of what to say echoing through her mind. She had never had a pen-pal before, let alone three, and she had written one slightly longer than she thought she would.

"_Dear Rarity, Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie, I do say this country has its own beauty in it. Trust me when I say, though, that I doubt I will ever be coming back here. Today we were accosted by a rather nasty thug and his cohorts: only the brave actions of Spike and our companion, a Mr. Wells, saved us all from a most unpleasant fate."_

Her eyes glazed over slightly as she recalled the memory that had been an experience only several hours ago. _"I won't go into the details in this letter, but suffice to say Spike is certainly coming into his own. He is becoming braver and more confident since I met him in Spreign, and I do so hope he will continue to show just how wonderful a husband he is. I can't begin to tell you all the little things he does: the hoof massages after a long day's walk, the way he sets us up for bed before falling asleep himself, the tenderness he shows for us..."_

She stopped right there, feeling a bit embarrassed she had written that. _"But enough of that: I hear Maredagascar is a wondrous place, filled with history, culture, and exquisite fashion for the region. Should we come across more of it, I would be delighted to send you back anything and everything I can."_

_"Sincerely, Maria."_ She reached down and tapped Spike on the shoulder, handing him her letter. He took it from her, his lips grazing her soft hand ever-so-slightly. She giggled softly and lay back on her bed.

Trixie and Asalah looked over their letters together, trying to find anything amiss in either ones'. Trixie looked over Asalah's, which began simply enough.

_"Dearest Fluttershy and Zecora, it may surprise you that I am sending this letter from the very village of the Marsabit zebras. Are you, Zecora, the daughter of the chief, Mr. Kalahari? I am amazed how different he treats others: it is really a very wondrous thing, to be honest. He is so polite and soft-spoken: he almost reminds me of you, Fluttershy."_

Trixie paused for a moment as she continued to read the letter: with a small burst of magic, the ant that was crawling up her back flew out of the hut's door. _"We have only been here a short while and I already can feel a bit of my ancestral lands calling to me. I will stay with Spike, that is for certain, but still I cannot help but feel strangely at peace in this place. When I get to Equestria, I would like for nothing more than the three best tour guides to help me "fit in", as they said."_

_"Sincerely, Asalah." _Trixie turned to the zebra, who was just finishing up on Trixie's own letter.

"This is a very nice letter, Asalah," Trixie said softly as she handed it to Spike.

"Thank you," Asalah said as she finished reading Trixie's. "Yours is as well, though I must ask: why all the double-speak and asking for these "secret" books?"

"Spike won't want to risk upsetting the pregnancy, Asalah, and a mare has needs even when she's carrying a foal," Trixie whispered. "Just because he can't put his "soldier" where I'd like it most doesn't mean he won't be able to use it somewhere else."

"Your pregnancy could be damaged if he had sex with you the normal way?" Asalah whispered, her eyes going wide. "I never knew that could happen."

"Oh, it's normally not a problem, but with a dragon as well "equipped" as Spike, it would be taking a chance neither of us would want to risk," Trixie said, though she smiled as Asalah handed the letter to Spike. "This way, I'll find any new ways of "spicing" up the marriage in the future, should we grow tired of the same routine."

"I doubt I could grow tired of him," Asalah whispered with a small smile. Ever since the trip up the river, she had been smiling more and more: it really did accentuate her exotic beauty.

"I know: good night," Trixie whispered, climbing up into her bunk. Asalah slid down and lay in the larger bed, waiting for Spike so she could snuggle up against him.

Meia looked at them all from her spot, and then back down to her letter. She had taken longer to write it: not because it was longer, per se, but because she had needed to more carefully word it in case somepony found her origins a tad suspicious.

_"Dear Twilight Sparkle and Princess Luna, I have to admit I am rather anxious about the pregnancy. I know next to nothing about dragon physiology and patterns of inheritance, save for what Trixie has taught us in her own little book on dragons. If it would not be too much of a bother, do you think you could write back with some helpful tips on what to do during a pregnancy?"_

This part was true, as much as it could be, in fact. Chrysalis was terribly anxious to be a mother, and she truly didn't know what she was going to do. In fact, she was more worried about what her offspring- no, _foal_, would look like. Her baby would not be called a creature or a thing: it would be her and Spike's foal, and any who called it something else would be met with severe pain.

On another note, she had no idea what to expect of the birthing process, as her mother had oh-so-fortunately never told her about_ that _particular aspect of the queen caste. She was terrified her foal would come out a monster: a changeling and a dragon had never bred before, according the ancient lore of her people. Add to the fact that the queen or king of the changeling race was always a little different in physiology from the rest of the hive, and there was no telling what her foal would look like.

"Also, as a close friend of Spike's I was hoping you would be able to tell me more about where he grew up and his life before we met, Twilight. I do so hope you don't mind me calling you Twilight: we're practically sisters now, through my marriage. I do want to get to know you better as well. I have heard you are incredibly talented at magic, and I was hoping you could maybe teach me some spells when I get back home?"

She paused again, her magic vaporizing a small insect crawling up her leg: she didn't have time to just send it flying off. _"Princess Luna, I have always been fascinated with the lore behind stars. Whether it was fortune-telling, prophesying or merely telling stores, I have always loved looking at the night sky. I never got to stargaze much at my old home, and I have heard the view is spectacular from where Spike is from. When we meet in pony, do you think you could show me just what I've been missing out on?"_

_Sincerely, Meia Dragul."_ She handed the letter to Spike, who had been patiently waiting for her to finish. By now, they were all much more tired than they had been when they started writing the letters: a common side effect of calming down when night approached.

With a small burst of flame, Spike sent the letters into the magical transporting dimension through which all magically transported items went through. He watched as the smoke shot out through the entrance to the hut and out of sight: it would be in Equestria very soon. After learning of the time zones, Spike knew it would well be daytime in Equestria still, but the fact that he wouldn't be able to talk with his friends and family immediately did not concern him. He needed his sleep: that much was evident,

"Goodnight everypony," he said softly, climbing into bed next to Asalah. Quietly, he whispered "I love you" to his wives. They each responded in kind, their soft voices like music to his ears. As Asalah snuggled up next to him, her soft body matching the contours of his own, Spike closed his eyes and fell asleep, drifting off into a peaceful dreamland.

Soon enough, his wives were asleep as well, their soft snores filling the hut. Outside, the rest of the camp was silent as the night closed in on Eastern Africa. The stars shone, the crickets sang, and the softest of breezes caressed the tired bodies of all gathered there. It was a good, silent night: all was calm.


	26. Set Sail

Chapter Twenty Six

Setting Sail

It was late in the morning that Spike and his wives awoke from their deep sleep. Late being a relative term: they rose shortly after the sun had, and already the village was abuzz with movement. Such ponies were not the kind to sleep in, especially when the majority had to either gather food, supplies, or tend to the small farms along the rivers.

Asalah was the first to rise, her head feeling fuzzier than normal. Truth be told, she had been feeling rather odd for the past few days. It as if she had drank a strong potion and was experiencing the oh-so-infamous "side effects" that so many doctors talked about. She hadn't been in heat since before Spike married her, and therefor she knew she wasn't pregnant. She just felt odd, and hungry at times that seemed very odd to her.

She looked across her husband's chest towards the door, but her eyes were immediately obscured by shadows flickering across the hut's entrance. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the sudden change in brightness, to see several zebra foals looking at her and the others, who were also rubbing their eyes. They were all staring at the ponies and dragon as if they had never seen them before.

Which, in all likelihood, they never had: except for herself, that is. Other than that, and aside from the fact the village knew about an earth pony like Wells, three unicorns and a dragon were likely a very rare sight to come by in these parts.

"Can we help you?" Asalah asked as the others looked at the zebra colts and fillies. In response to her question, the little zebras merely giggled and ran off, only to have their entrance blocked by a familiar face.

"Come now, time is of the essence," Kalahari said, beckoning them forward. "The elephants will not want to travel by the moon's luminescence."

"This is where we must part, my friends," Wells said, shaking their hands in fond farewell. "I will rest here for a week or two before heading back home. Perhaps it was time I put down some roots back in Equineland."

"It was a pleasure travelling with you, Mr. Wells," Maria said. "I speak for all of us when we say thank you again for saving us from that sandstorm."

"It was debt that was soon repaid, my dear," Wells said with a smile. "If not for your dragon Spike and all of your magic and help, I surely would have died up there in my dirigible before arriving in the Marsabit village."

As soon as they exited the hut after Kalahari, Wells turned and went off towards the same hut that he had gone in the night before: that of the shaman. Spike and his wives grabbed their supplies and followed Kalahari, who was soon escorted by several... giraffes?

"An honor to make your acquaintance, the one called Spike," one of the giraffes said, bowing down and looking Trixie in the face.

"Oh, uh, I'm not Spike," Trixie said, a slight blush forming on her face.

"You are not?" the giraffe said in surprise. "But you have a spike on your forehead. Or is this one Spike?" the giraffe asked, swinging his head to the side enough to look at Meia.

"No, that's Meia," Trixie said. "I am Trixie, this one is named Maria, and this zebra is Asalah. That is Spike," she said, pointing over at the real Spike.

"My apologies," one of the other giraffes said, swinging her head down next to the other's. "Hodari here has excellent eyesight, but is a tad slow." She leaned in a bit closer and whispered. "Hit his head a few too many times when necking, you see."

"I can run plenty fast, Zuri," Hodari responded. "So, Spike," he continued, looking over at the real, draconic Spike. "I bet you're wondering why we're here, right?"

"Well, yes," Spike said, rubbing the back of his neck again. He couldn't help it: some of his scales were shedding. It was almost random, like whenever some pony had a bit of their mane fall out.

"Giraffes have some of the best eyesight of all the hooved creatures in Africa, Spike," Zuri said, looking over at Spike as well. "Our height means we can spot any dangers farther off than most creatures, and our eyesight is not based as much on color, but more on texture."

"How would that help?" Maria asked. "I mean, I'm not totally knowledgeable about African mammals, but that seems a rather odd adaptation."

"Our eyes can tell the difference between a field of grass and the lion hiding in it," Zuri said. "Since they are roughly the same color and harder to tell apart when the grass blows in the wind, we hire ourselves out travelers who must cross large stretches of such land to reach a destination."

"Will you be travelling with us and the elephants?" Spike asked. It would always be good to have extra eyes on a journey.

"Of course: we work as a team, us giraffes and elephants," Hodari said. "We serve as moving lookouts, and they in turn are protection against any nearby predators."

"Protection how?" Meia asked, knowing full well their magic could deal with a few stray lions.

"Have you seen an elephant up close, unicorn?" Zuri said with a gentle tone of cautioning fascination. "They are among the largest creatures on the planet, next to a hydra, large manticore or an old dragon, of course," she added. "That, and their tusks and brute strength are usually enough to ward off any predators during most times of the year. Be thankful it isn't the dry season, or else we'd really have to be on the lookout."

Before Trixie could ask what this "dry season" entailed, Kalahari stepped forward. "We must go now, as there is no time to lose." He looked over at Spike. "We must get to the elephants; I hear they have news."

"What news?" Spike asked, only for Kalahari to walk away and lead them off. Shrugging, and thinking to ask the zebra later, Spike walked off, his wives following close behind.

So they walked, over hills and under the limbs of trees, where the giraffes would stop for a bite to eat every now and then. Here and there tall patches and fields of grass could be seen, but they steered clear of these. No lions or hyenas jumped out at them, though a leopard did snarl at Hodari when he awoke him from his tree-based nap.

"Um, Zuri," Trixie called up as they walked on, the dry heat refreshing when compared to what they had endured in the Samarea Desert. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Certainly," the giraffe said, swinging her head down a bit lower so she wouldn't have to shout. "Go right ahead."

"Just how much do you eat? I couldn't help but notice how you thoroughly stripped all those leaves off those tree branches," the unicorn asked, her steady hoofsteps easily keeping up with the long, slow strides of the giraffes.

"Oh, around 140 pounds of food every day, though a day for a giraffe is very different than a day for ponies," the giraffe replied with a smile.

"How so?" Asalah asked, listening in on the conversation. How could a day for a pony be different than that of a giraffe?

"Well Asalah, we giraffes only need around 20 minutes of sleep per day, so we can spend the rest of it eating and doing other things," Zuri said, her long tongue licking her lower lip.

"Only 20 minutes?" Trixie asked in disbelief. "How do you do it?"

"No idea, though it may be our extra-large hearts," the giraffe said, swinging her head up to swipe some leaves from a tree. "A lot of blood being pumped up there and all that: more oxygen to our brain."

"How do you know so much about physiology and biology?" Maria asked, surprised a race of intelligent but hand-less hooved mammals knew so much.

"We spend time in the arts and the sciences, though occasionally we dabble in potions," Zuri replied. "With our long necks, we can reach certain ingredients in places most ponies couldn't, even if they tried."

"We are here, my friends," Kalahari said, bringing the group to a stop. "I am afraid this is where my journey with you ends."

Spike and his wives thanked the zebra, who said he was fine walking back to his village all by himself. Two giraffes already at the meeting place insisted they go back with him, a request he begrudgingly accepted. He seemed more embarrassed than mad or anything: he wasn't that old.

Spike and the others talked with the elephants after Kalahari left. It seemed a bout of good fortune had stricken them: the weather appeared clear, and as the rivers were not flooding, they would arrive in two days' time at their destination along the coast.

The ride, in and of itself, was rather enjoyable. For one of the few times along the entire journey, Spike actually felt like a prince. Riding with his wives on a herd of large animals, with several others keeping lookout: a shady tent on each elephant's back, small enough to be lightweight but large enough to shelter each of them from the sun. All that was missing now was golden streets, fanfare and peacocks.

Spike didn't want all that extra stuff, as that was for the bit more extravagant royalty. He was fine with roughing in on foot or by plain enchanted cart.

So it was that the first day came and went with no trouble whatsoever. The riding was smooth, the elephants were polite, and everypony of Spike's entourage got along just fine. Well, except for one pony in particular...

"Gah, why do I feel this way?" Asalah asked, her voice a loud whisper to the other mares as they gathered around one of the fire.

"What way, Asalah?" Maria asked as she helped herself to some of their provisions, passing them around for the others as well. Hodari, Zuri and the other giraffes were off eating some leaves from some nearby acacia trees, and Spike was off talking to the lead elephant, an elderly matriarch by the name of Margaret.

"My vision goes so blurry I can't see straight, my body feels odd, I have a headache, I sweat uncontrollably sometimes, my lower back gets very itchy, and these symptoms only occur around the same thing every time I see it!" The zebra sounded frustrated beyond compare, as if her own body was trying to tell her something.

"What would that be?" Trixie asked. "It sounds rather serious."

"Spike!" Asalah whispered, furtively looking around to make sure none of the others were listening in on the conversation.

"Spike?" Maria asked. "Tell me, Asalah, when was the last time you've been in heat? This simply sounds like the need to breed, ponysonally."

"A week before Spike arrived in Agrabah, to be precise," the zebra said. "It's not my heat: it can't be. I'm not showing any of the other symptoms and I don't feel the slight pain that comes with it. Or at least, the same kind of pain: this all feels so different."

"You're not in heat?" Meia asked in surprise, softly rubbing her stomach: she was not yet showing, and Maria still had the same taut stomach she did from when Spike first met her. "Then what could it be?"

"I don't know!" Asalah said, looking around again. "I was hoping you could tell me: I feel these odd urges, this odd set of aches and pains, and above all that, I want to jump him more than normal. Why is that?"

The three unicorns were silent as they pondered this set of information. There wasn't any pony-born or any other animal-born disease that had these symptoms and caused this, love spells didn't leave behind such physical evidence, and-

"Magic," Trixie said suddenly, causing the other three to look at her. "It's magic."

"Magic?" Maria asked, glancing up at her horn. "How is it magic? We've never cast a spell on Asalah, and I can't think of any unicorns who could have."

"That's just the thing: we're not casting spells," Trixie said. She looked over at Meia, who's eyes carried in their depths a confused look. "Tell me, Meia: what do you know of your own biology?"

"Unicorn biology? It's been a while since I studied..." Meia muttered, trying to think back on some her studies as a little changeling filly. "Our magic isn't always cast, right?"

"Exactly," Trixie said. "We're responsible for you condition, Asalah," she added, looking over at the zebra.

"What? How?" the mare asked, her black and white pelt looking beautiful in the light of the small fire.

"It's our magic, my dear," Meia said. She looked over at Maria, whose look of comprehension was spreading across her face. "I think Maria knows what we're talking about."

"Indeed I do," she said, turning to look at the zebra mare. "Asalah, you know about hormones and similar biological influences, right?"

"Yes, of course: my tutors taught me all our people know," Asalah said.

"Well, for unicorns, it is a bit different," Maria said. "Our magic, as is the magic in all species, is tied to the well-being of our bodies. A unicorn's magic is also intricately tied to not only their mood, but to their blood, through which all important things flow. Our blood, as in Meia's, Trixie's and my own, are now filled with the hormones associated with reproduction and foal development. Our pregnancies are causing change within us, including the production of many different hormones."

"Yes, but what does that have to do with me?" the zebra mare asked.

"Our magic is naturally exuded, so as to not build to a dangerous level," Meia said. "To hold in our magic, to hide it and never use it, would be like never going to the bathroom for a long time. Eventually, well, it'll "explode" out, usually with horrible consequences."

"As Maria said before, our magic is influenced by our biological state," Trixie said. "The thing is, with our pregnancies, our exuded magic is spilling out of us and into you, my dear, as the hormonal imbalance is causing an excess expulsion of magic. Your close proximity to us all the time is likely the cause for it going straight to you."

"...what?" the zebra asked. "But... how?"

"Through the air we breathe, Asalah, through the jugs of water we share: possibly even through the clothes we exchange. I must say, I'm sorry I didn't realize it right away, but I never expected us three unicorns to be putting out so much excess magic that it was spilling over into you. Again, my apologies my dear," Maria said, softly rubbing her stomach.

"So... your hormonal changes are affecting me as well, through your expelled magic?" Asalah asked, glancing over at Spike, who was still deep in conversation with the elephant matriarch. "So why isn't Spike being affected?"

"I don't know, but I believe I have two theories as to why," Maria said. "He's a dragon: reptiles produce and respond differently to hormones. Second, he's a male: half of our hormones would have no effect in his body even if he were a stallion."

"So... what am I supposed to do? I mean, I can't keep going around like this!" Asalah sounded even more frustrated than she had before. "I can't concentrate on anything for very long, and even now I'm having trouble focusing on something besides Spike!"

"Well, as with all things, there are certain actions that can soothe excessive magic build-up," Meia said, a small smile forming on her face. "For us unicorns, it is as simple as performing magic. But you, a zebra, cannot do this: you have no built-in magic "relief valve", as some call our horns. There is, however, another way..."

"How?" Asalah asked, sounding almost desperate.

"Have sex: pure and simple," Meia said. "Magic is exuded in many ways, as it is within the fluids of our bodies. During sex, some of the more powerful unicorns have actually cast spells mid-orgasm from their fluids alone."

There was silence as the fire crackled, the silence enshrouding them like the quiet after a storm. Nopony spoke for a while, with Asalah being too stupefied to form a coherent sentence.

"... really?" she asked, her voice almost a squeak. "That... that's all it will take? A roll in the hay, as I have heard it put?"

"Well," Meia began, clearly seeing a problem that could arise should Asalah rush into this. "It can't be like what you did back in the Samarea Desert."

"What? How am I supposed to do... it... different?" Asalah asked.

"More than one "romp", if your symptoms are truly as troublesome as you say," Trixie said, a small brush levitating from her satchel and combing through her mane. "You'll likely have to go at least three times, if my memory on magic expulsion is correct. The body can only release so much in one go, and if what you say is indeed true, you won't get this under control unless you "do it" more than once."

"Three times? But... but I've only ever lasted once!" Asalah sounded rather embarrassed by this confession, as if she didn't want any other only to know she didn't have much stamina in bed.

"Asalah, nopony should be expected to be able to go more than one round in bed," Meia said. "The same goes for stallions: usually both of the sexes take so long to reach their peak, everything works out after just one time."

"But, as with any rule, there are exceptions, and there are many mares out there, like us, who can go more than just once," Trixie said. "We, unlike they, have lucked out with having a stallion who can keep up with us, if not exceed our pace."

"But... what am I supposed to do? I can last one round, and if I push it, maybe two... but three? What if I pass out halfway up to the second part? What if Spike blames himself, feeling as though it's his fault I couldn't go more? What if-,"

Maria gently placed a finger on Asalah's lips, silencing the mare. "Asalah, relax: we're unicorns, remember?" she said. "There are plenty of potions we could brew like that," -she snapped her fingers at this- "that can give you the "inner fire" you need to achieve your goal. All we'll need is a day to prepare it."

"One day?" Asalah asked, her voice containing a trace of an adorable whine. "Well, I guess I can hold out for one more day..."

"Good, because I doubt Spike would want to try and have sex on an unwilling elephant's back or out in the grasses," Meia said. "He may be a male, but unlike most, he cares about the wants and needs of others all the time."

"Very well: one more day it is," Asalah said. "But what about-,"

She blinked: she was no longer around the fire. She was boarding a ship, leaving a port that she had no recollection of entering. Seagulls cawed in the air and the spray of the western Indian Ocean splashed against the deck of the ship. The smell of salt, heavier than that of the Meditermanean Sea, seemed to soak into her very bones. How in the world had she gotten here?

"Asalah, come on! We're casting off!" Meia said, pulling her towards the steps leading to the lower decks.

Asalah blinked again: had she been daydreaming the entire time? Why had she chosen now, of all times, to think back on her conversation with the others around the fire?

Meanwhile, down below...

Spike looked around the cabin he had been given, making a mental note of everything that had been placed there. It wasn't much, and the majority of what he had brought with him was in the cabin's closet.

The journey had been easy that day, and ponysonally, Spike was thankful he had been given the good fortune of having great travelling weather. The city, whose name he had forgotten, looked rather beautiful in the setting sun. It wasn't polished like Agrabah or industrious like the coastal towns of Equineland. It seemed more... rustic, more rural: small fishing boats lined the docks as far as the eye could see. The porthole through which he could see all this was rusted slightly around the ring, from the amount of salt water this ship had endured in its voyages.

Speaking of voyages, Spike had a funny feeling something... strange was going on. Like there was something happening under his very nose, and yet he couldn't make out just what exactly it was. If Pinkie Pie was here, her Pinkie Sense would likely tell him it was going to be a doozy: he felt so sure that whatever was going to happen, it would be huge. Maybe one of his wives would have twins?

He smiled sheepishly at that thought: he was already going to have three bouncing baby dragon-unicorn hybrids in a little more than eight months. Did he really need to wish for another any time soon?

There was a knock at his door: the captain had told him that he and his wives wouldn't be disturbed, so he had no idea just who it was. Walking over and opening it, he was surprised to see...

"Asalah? What... what brings you here?" Spike felt his tongue flop around in his mouth: she was wearing some rather... figure-hugging clothing that made him feel suddenly hot under the collar. "Are you all settled in?"

"Yes, Spike," she said, having foregone calling him "husband" a few days ago. "We are all settled in, but I was hoping to ask you something."

"Yes?" Spike said, stepping back to let her inside the room. The sun's rays disappeared over the far horizon, as the night began to deepen over the harbor. The ship lurched as it moved amidst the waves: they had finally cast off and were heading towards Maredagascar.

"Could... could I spend the night with you? Just with you?" Asalah asked, as the four mares had been allocated to a larger cabin built for four occupants. She blinked innocently as she asked, taking a step towards her dragon husband.

"Oh, uh...," Spike said, suddenly feeling really hot under the collar. Well, and hard: definitely getting hard under the... belt. "S-sure: let me get the bed r-ready." He turned away, suddenly feeling like a school-colt whose tutor was hitting on him like a sledgehammer. Asalah was _never_ this forward: either he really had underestimated her, or she was really, _really_ horny this night.

With his back turned, Asalah withdrew the small flask the others had prepared for her, her stomach all a flutter with excitement. Would this finally do it? Would her aches, urges and feelings finally become subdued enough for her to function properly? With a quick motion she emptied the contents into her mouth, feeling the warm liquid burn down her throat and into her stomach.

Instantly she felt a change come over her: it was almost as if her eyes had been opened to the wonders of the opposite sex. Spike's muscles moved enticingly under his shirt as he began to pull back some of the covers on the bed. They looked firm, hard, strong: the kind of muscles every mare dreamed her dreamstallion would possess. His tail moved behind his behind, swaying to and fro like some large, scaly tree trunk waiting to be climbed. Almost as a reflex, Asalah locked the door behind her without even looking. Then, in a flash, her hands were on her dress, pulling it from her body like it was burning her.

Spike looked up as he finished removing his shirt, hearing the rustling of fabric. Turning around, he was met with a blur of black and white pelt crashing into him. With a muffled shout, muffled by the pressing of soft lips over his own, Spike fell backwards onto the bed with his wife in tow.

"Asalah! What has gotten into you?" Spike asked after she had removed her lips from his own. She tasted... different, though thinking about how she tasted touched on something Spike had been wanting to give her since that night in the desert.

"I'm not sure," she said untruthfully, rubbing her naked body against the bare chest of her husband while her hands snaked downwards. "I want you to know how much I love you."

"I think I can see how much," Spike said, feeling suddenly feeling protective after she said that. By Celestia's gleaming white flank, was he always going to be this possessive whenever his wives showed a little affection?

They lay like this for a few minutes, Asalah rubbing her soft body over Spike's scaly chest as her hands snaked down and undid his pants. Lifting himself off the bed with his wings and tail, Spike slid them off, his evident erection slapping against Asalah's firm rear. Asalah moaned heartily at this, grinding herself against his erection. In her head, she knew she had to achieve three orgasms for the excess magic built up within her to be expelled, and from the way things were progressing, it wouldn't be a difficult task at all.

Just as she finished thinking this, the ship lurched slightly: Spike took advantage of this action and spun them around in bed, so now he was on top. Asalah giggled like a school-filly, clearly not minding how their positions had been reversed.

"Asalah," Spike said, nuzzling behind the sensitive flesh of her ears with his lips.

"Yes?" she asked, slightly out of breath. How in the world did this dragon know about all these erogenous zones?

He slid lower until his lips were pressed against her stomach, the soft fur of her pelt tickling his nose. His legs had slipped off the bed and he was now leaning over her, his feet flat on the floor. "Hold on."

Without another word Spike arms snaked under her thighs and picked her up, the zebra suddenly finding herself vertical. As the dragon's hands steadied her new position by holding her up along her lower back, Asalah gasped as he stood up and walked her away from the bed. A dresser, several feet high, stood in a corner. With due purpose, Spike set her down on the flat surface, her back pressed against the wall.

"Spike?" the zebra asked softly, not sure where this was going. Spike only responded by gently spreading his wife's thighs, exposing her hot core to the world. She was swollen and leaking slightly, and now she would feel more of his love.

"Spike?" Asalah asked again, suddenly feeling nervous: was this some new game? "What are you... ohhh," she moaned, her question cut off as something hot and very long entered her nethers. He had never done that before.

"Shh," he muttered into her thighs, his tongue retreating enough for him to speak. "Just sit here and let me take care of you."

"But, Spike, I- ahhh," she moaned again, her words cut off by the feeling of Spike's long, sinuous tongue entering her once more. She tried to squirm, but Spike's hands held her legs in place, keeping them open enough for him to effortlessly explore her depths.

In a matter of minutes, Asalah was leaking all over her husband's face, though the dragon paid it no mind. In fact, he seemed to enjoy is, judging from the way he slurped it all up: he even licked his entire face clean with his dexterous tongue. She struggled, she squirmed, she squeezed his head between her muscular thighs, but it did nothing to relieve the pleasures coursing through her lower body. Asalah's hooves twitched with every lick, her fingers curled whenever Spike slurped: by the sun and moon above, it was torture. Pleasurable, unbelievably amazing torture.

Why hadn't she let him do this that night back in the Samarea Desert? She could have been flopping like a flounder on the desert sand beneath his ministrations, and instead she had chosen to only go with what little she knew of sex. She did not regret that one bit, but this... this was something she couldn't believe she had missed out on.

She felt the tongue retreat slightly, causing her to blink in confusion. "Spike? Wha-OH!" she almost shouted when she felt him nibble the edges of her exposed core. He nipped here and there, soft at first, but eventually those nips becoming harder and harder, until he was munching on her with his lips and teeth. Nothing hard enough to draw blood or leave a mark, of course, but it was an assault she had definitely not been prepared for.

Asalah was panting as though she had run a mile in under four minutes. Her back was pressed against the wall, the sweat surely soaking into the dry wood as the ship rocked beneath them. The zebra's buxom chest heaved, her lungs burned for air, and with every nibble she felt shocks shoot through her body like an electric eel had been shoved in the very place Spike was tending to.

A sudden lurch of the ship sent Spike's face right into her sopping wet opening, his nose and mouth buried in her folds. He must have thought fast, for in that split second, he started to hum, the vibrations proving too much for her body to resist. The sensation of so large and warm an object, punctured by the added momentum of it moving so fast and vibrating, sent Asalah over the edge for the first time that night. With a noise hallway between a squeal and a cry, she clenched, juices flowing out onto her husband's face and head. Her muscular thighs clenched harder, the gripping action forcing Spike's face a little deeper into her.

After her body quit convulsing, Asalah gently pried her legs off of her husband. Spike, his long tongue swirling over his face to get every last bit of her nectar, took a step back and helped her off the dresser.

"You still up for more?" he asked, giving her a devilish grin that made her already-rubbery legs go weak with need. She looked down to see him as hard as he had ever been, his proud shaft standing at full mast.

"O-of course," she said, embracing him and trying to force him into her. She burned with need, and right now she wanted to be filled, to be pleasured by his giant dragon-

It did not go in. Spike had moved slightly to the side, so that when she went against them, it slid up between their bellies. Asalah looked at her husband in confusion, wondering why he had suddenly done this.

"Spike?" she asked as his hands gently moved up to her shoulders. "Is... is something wrong?"

"No, no, there's nothing wrong," Spike said, capturing her lips with his for a few moments. When he retreated, his eyes were sparkling with amusement. "I just wanted to ask you a question."

"Yes?" Asalah said quietly.

"What do you want me to do, Asalah?" Spike asked, his voice becoming heavy with lust. "What do you want me to do to you?"

Oh wow, Asalah had never thought Spike's voice could sound more sexy than when he spoke to her like that. Deep, rich, with a luxurious quality the likes of which could bring lesser mares to orgasm by merely hearing it. "I... I want you to take me," she said, pressing her body against his so that their curves meshed. "I want you to make me moan, make me scream your name. Ravage me!" With that, she pushed against him, a sudden tilting of the ship sending them rushing backwards. With a thump, Spike landed against the wall, his surprised lips recaptured by Asalah's.

"Mmph," Spike said, spinning them both around so that Asalah thumped against the wall instead. They both knew the others were in the room next to them, through that very wall, but neither cared.

"Mmm," Asalah replied, the heat in her body soaring once more as Spike's hands roamed over her body until they gripped her by the waist. Her moans turned to a shout of surprise when he spun her around and pressed her buxom chest to the wall, her ass sticking presented before him.

"Spike, what-," she began before being cut off by two of his fingers plunging into her core, making her almost jump. Then, as quick as they had been plunged in, they retreated. She tried to speak again, but Spike's breath became hot on her neck as his wet fingers slid up her body and onto her mouth.

"Lick them," he said softly, his voice beyond mortal sexy and now just entering into the realm of sex god... sexy. Asalah's mind, hazy with lust and the driving need to be rutted, wasted no time in slobbering over her husband's juice-coated fingers, tasting herself. Spike's response was to slide the fingers into the corner of her mouth, causing Asalah to suck on them like the breasts from which she nursed.

She never felt so dirty in her life, licking the very fingers that had played with her marehood. The mere thought of doing such a thing was so taboo in her culture that actually doing it gave her a rush like nothing before. The taste, the feeling of her husband's fingers in her mouth, his throbbing cock rubbing along her ass...

Wait, what?

"Spike?" she whinnied through his fingers in her mouth.

"Asalah, you said before what you wanted me..." Spike slid his shaft up her backside.

"Yes," she gasped, sucking in a lungful of air after he removed his fingers. "I... I said I wanted you to... ravage me."

"Request accepted," Spike whispered in her ear, his hands snaking down until they rested on her taught stomach, the crooks of his elbows holding her sides. Sliding backwards and lining himself up with her still-dripping core, Spike thrust his hips forward, driving home.

"Oh, oh... oh my!" Asalah shouted, the force of Spike's sudden thrust making her breasts rub against the wall. She was so full, so suddenly, that she swallowed another set of moans, lest she break down and just moan for the rest of the night. But after that first delicious, swift thrust of a strong, pulsating shaft, there wasn't anything else: he had stopped. The horny zebra looked back over her shoulder to see her husband looking down at her firm backside. "Spike?"

"Your ass," he muttered, pulling out some more before ramming his shaft back inside her.

"Y-y-yes?" she moaned.

"It's... amazing," he muttered, pulling out once more. As he slammed back in, he pushed against her with his entire body, pushing her into the wall. "So firm," -thrust- "so muscular" -thrust- "so... jiggly".

Every punctuated sentence was met with a powerful thrust, each one making Asalah squeak. Her rump would jiggle with every thrust, Spike entranced by the firm flesh moving in such an erotic way. Lowering one of his hands from her side, Spike grasped the underside of her thigh and lifted it up, allowing him to penetrate deeper than before. This shift in her stance mad her hit, tight canal even tighter, so that he actually had to put in some effort to slide in. And slide in he did: slurping noises accompanied him every time he shoved inside his fourth wife's glorious marehood.

They rutted like this for several more minutes, the combined squelching, squeaking and dripping of their mingling juices the only noise in the room. It was, at least until Asalah felt something stir within her. It was another orgasm: not as monstrously strong as her first, but enough to make her squeal. With a whinny she kicked against the wall with both hooves, repeating this as her entire body jiggled and twitched with her release. Spike thrust upward at the same time she clamped down, his shaft erupting within her as he pushed her up the wall. Thick, virile seed spilled forth into her, mixing with her own copious sexual fluids. A bit leaked out onto the floor, running down their legs as it did so: they didn't care.

Belly swelling with seed, breasts aching, legs cramping, muscles spasming: by the sun, Asalah was in heaven. She fell back into Spike's arms, the weight of her making them stumble back onto the bed. Spike still lay inside her, still hard after one go.

"Spike, I love you," she whispered, laying back as the dragon propped himself up.

"I love you too, Asalah," he whispered, nuzzling her neck. Seriously, if he kept this up, by the time she entered heat, he'd get her pregnant with sextuplets or something.

She sighed, feeling full, satisfied, and happy... until she realized her predicament. She had gone twice: she needed to go one more time before her magic buildup went away. If Spike fell asleep, there was no telling when he would be able to go-

"Spike? What are you doing?" Asalah asked as she felt him slide up in her once more. That small thrust, nothing compared to any before, was still enough to make her breasts bounce in her field of vision, if only just. The large striped globes, if she had been pregnant, would likely have been lactating, a thought she sensed would be an unbelievably erotic sight.

"Finishing the job," Spike said, turning her around while she was still impaled on his rock-hard shaft. Soon enough, she was lying on his chest, her ass up in the air as his hands raised her up off him. Her nipples, so hard it almost hurt, rubbed against his chest as he pushed her up and down, his shaft eagerly entering her love tunnel.

"Spike, please," she moaned, snaking her tongue out across his cheek. From this angle, it felt even more different than she thought it would: it was is he were reaching up into her womb and tenderly caressing it with his soft but firm dick, a feat she knew neither of them could handle. "Make it last." She never wanted the night to end: it was magical, it was perfect, it was what she had always wanted.

"I will." He gently moved her in time with the boat, their bodies rocking to the gentle beat of love.


	27. A Well-Deserved Honeymoon Interlude

Chapter Twenty Seven

A Well Deserved Honeymoon Interlude

Surprisingly, Maredagascar, or at least the place the ship landed on, was not too different from Agrabah. Marble columns, gold-covered domes on the towers and palace, gardens here and there, pools for swimming... It seemed that Spike's arrival had been told of, for the minute Spike and his wives left the ship, they were greeted by a colorfully-dressed...

"Um, sir: who are you exactly?" Spike asked the odd pony-looking fellow. The pony was indeed odd, as he had the upper half of an earth pony and the lower half of a zebra. Plus, he had instantly welcomed them to the city, the name of which none of them could pronounce, as well as into his home. Then, without any segue, had started babbling on about trade and exotic goods.

"Oh, my apologies: I am Sultan Abd-Al-Karim: I trust you too received the letter?" The skinny equine seemed almost overjoyed to see Spike.

"What letter?" Spike asked, unsure why this... pony was inviting them into his home. He had heard of zebra/pony hybrids but didn't know the name of them.

"Oh, you didn't get one?" the hybrid asked, his smile faltering slightly as confusion too overtook his tone. "Your Princess Luna sent me one, asking me if you would like to use my palace as a place for your honeymoon."

"Honeymoon?" Spike asked, not mentioning Luna, as he was too confused as to why she hadn't sent him the letter. "Well, only if you're offering: I don't want to intrude."

"You could never intrude, Spike Dragul," the sultan said. "It is my most humble pleasure to welcome you, and your wives, into my home," he said, putting emphasis on "your wives", in an apparent attempt to appear even more polite.

"Well, then, I thank you, sir," Spike said, feeling a bit overwhelmed again. Wow, was he going to be treated like this in every city with a powerful ruler? "Where will we be staying in your... palace?"

"The guest rooms, of course: they have the best view in the city," the stallion said, gesturing for them to follow.

They had not gone far before Spike turned to Asalah. "Asalah, have you ever seen a pony like him before?"

Asalah's eyed were glazed over as she walked, though she quickly shook her head to clear up her thoughts. Obviously about last night, if her smile was any indicator. "He's a zhorse, Spike: it's what happens when a zebra mates with an earth pony."

"Ah, so that's what he is," Spike replied.

Meanwhile, far away in the land from whence Spike came...

"It's nice to see you again, Cadence," Celestia said as she sipped her iced tea. The three princesses had gathered in the royal gardens and were currently shaded under a large, almost cloud-looking patio umbrella.

"It is nice to be back in Equestria, Tia," Cadence replied, sipping her iced tea as well. "For once I was able to get away from all the hustle and bustle of running a kingdom. I don't know how you do it, let alone having done it for so many centuries."

"Well, with great power comes great responsibility, niece," Luna said. They were all wearing light, somewhat frilly outfits, the kind one might find in a wealthy pony's fashion catalog. "Besides, everypony needs a break from work, us included. Your husband must have his hands full, watching over both the security of your kingdom and your little foals."

"Too true," Cadence agreed, setting her cup down. "He's taking it in stride, though: he has had so much more energy after they were born, I don't know where it came from. So... I know I've been out of the loop for quite some time now: has anything major happened since the last time I was here?"

"Well, you know of the newest troubles brewing in the lands of the minotaurs," Celestia said.

"Yes; they have been having problems with the current leadership, and as of now there have been smattering talks of rebellion. Anything else?" Cadence was usually on the cutting edge of news pertaining to her old home, but for a while she hadn't been as privy to such news. Raising her foals had taken much of what little energy she had left after running a kingdom.

"Well, Spike has been married," Luna said.

"What? Spike got married?" Cadence asked, almost dropping her iced tea. "When? To whom?"

"We told him about his royal duty and sent him on a world-wind tour," Celestia said. "As of now, we believe he is somewhere in Maredagascar with his wives."

Cadence had been in mid-sip when the word "wives" entered her ears. Barely suppressing the urge to spit, she swallowed and look at her aunts. "He has more than one wife already?"

"Four, to be exact," Luna said. "Three unicorns and a zebra. Two of them are natives to Equestria, with the other unicorn being a Spreignish noblemare and the zebra, a sultana. One of them has been with him since he left Manehattan."

"Well... wow," Cadence said, a stunned look gracing her features. "I... I guess I never thought little Spikey Wikey would grow up so fast."

Off in Ponyville, Rarity suddenly punched a hole in her bathroom wall for no reason.

"Well, I'm surprised he lasted as long as he did without a relationship," Celestia said. "He grew into quite the looker."

"That's something, coming from Miss "No Coltfriend for Me", sister," Luna said with a giggle. Celestia's complexion reddened slightly at this.

"Luna, we agreed we'd never talk about that." She sounded embarrassed, and a little peeved as well, as if it had been a promise made in great secret with few still alive to know it had even happened.

"It's not my fault you never found somepony good enough after him," the younger princess said, apparently not noticing her sister's peeved expression.

"Tell me more about Spike," Cadence said, interrupting what was sure to become a very awkward conversation. The last time Celestia and Luna had gotten into a fight, it had taken the servants three days to clean all the desserts and bagels from the dining room. Every now and then, they still found some, usually under a desk or behind a curtain.

Celestia breathed a sigh of relief, thankful for such a distraction. "Well, the palace is currently being renovated, with a few new additions being put in place for Spike's eventual family. We've even begun adding rooms for the foals."

"Foals?" Cadence asked, her eyebrows almost disappearing into her mane. "Is... is Spike going to be a father? _Already?_"

"Yes," Luna said. "All three unicorns are expecting. The first will be due around the time they all finally arrive in Canterlot, in about six or so months." She and Celestia smiled in unison at this: they were going to be aunts all over again. It had been a terribly long time since they had last seen Cadence's own foals, and seeing as Spike would be staying in the castle, they could see his foals whenever they wanted to.

"What about the other two?" Cadence asked, not believing she was going to be an aunt in half a year.

"They're due about two months after that," Luna said. "So we'll have three new nieces or nephews: that is, if Asalah doesn't become pregnant before she arrives in Equestria."

"Who's Asalah?" Cadence asked.

"The zebra mare Spike "accidentally" married, though I don't think they view it as that anymore," Celestia said, sipping some more of her iced tea.

"What do you mean by "accidentally" married?" Cadence asked. Had Spike been forced into it, or had Asalah?

"The local custom involving the suitor sleeping in the daughter's room: Spike was drunk and awoke in there," Luna said. "From what I understand, the other three didn't handle it too well for a while, but they "got over it", as you say."

"What are the names of these other three?" the princess of the Crystal Empire asked.

"Trixie Nixiuba is the one most along in her pregnancy," Celestia said. "The others are Meia Morphos and Maria Almareconraddo Del Rivioso."

"Trixie Nixiuba? As in the famous show-stopping traveling pony?" Cadence asked. "I thought she was just on a hiatus after her last tour. How did Spike manage to snatch her up?"

"They met on a train and things got... passionate," Luna said, blushing slightly. "When her heat hit, she became almost instantly pregnant: she went all the way to Roam to tell him, and they were married there."

"Well, while I don't condone the means through which their foal was conceived, I must commend Spike for being a true gentlecolt and marrying her." Cadence adjusted her wings slightly behind her back. "These other two: is the named Maria the one from Spreign?"

"Indeed," Celestia said, her voice slightly hushed from the mentioning of Roam. That was where the head of the Church of the Maressiah was, after all...

"Then what about this Meia Morphos?" Cadence asked. "She's nopony I know of."

"She is just a normal unicorn from Trotten," Luna said. "Though if Spike's letters are anything to go by, he's totally smitten with her: with all of them, to be exact."

Cadence was silent for a moment. "Smitten? How smitten?" she asked.

"Very much so," Luna said, her tone taking on a slightly confused tone. "Why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering if he could be... under a spell," Cadence said, a slight edge coming into her tone.

"What makes you think that?" Celestia asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Don't you think it is a little too convenient that some pony he just happens to meet in Manehattan would travel so far with him and become one of his wives? What do we know of this Meia?"

"Cadence, mind your tone," Celestia said, a slight edge coming into her own voice as well. "Are you insinuating that this Meia could be an imposter?"

"Well... I don't know," Cadence admitted, some of her confidence leaving her. "I just... I just had a horrible thought about the Changelings, and how they tried to ruin my wedding, and how their queen is so devious that she'd no doubt take advantage of a well-meaning dragon like Spike. Am I wrong for thinking of that?"

There was silence for a few moments. "No, dear niece: there is nothing wrong with having a little skepticism," Luna said. "Besides, if Spike truly were under Queen Chrysalises' control, do you think he'd have married three other mares? She'd have wanted all his love to herself and couldn't afford to have him give it to others."

"I... I suppose you are right," the alicorn princess said, finishing her iced tea. "I'm just a bit worried for him is all: he's going to be a father, after all."

"We all care for him too, Cadence," Celestia said. "We all want him to come home with his wives, all safe and sound. He has important duties in his future, as will his foals when their time comes."

"Ah, those duties," Cadence said. "Have you begun making all the necessary preparations?"

"Entirely," Celestia said. "There's a nice palatial cottage higher up in the mountains that would be an excellent spot. I'm just not sure it's for us: maybe Spike would like it as a small vacation home?"

"Yes, no doubt: that is where he'd likely conceive more heirs with his wives," Luna said with a snicker.

Cadence looked astonished, but her smile grew as well. "Dragons do have the habit of begetting many offspring," she said, snickering.

"Ladies, please," Celestia said in a tone that tried to be stern, though her smile said otherwise. "I am sure Spike can restrain himself from having twenty heirs."

Meanwhile, in Maredagascar...

The city was a nice place to find exotic goods, which was why Trixie and Maria gladly went off with several palace servants to peruse the goods. This left Spike, Asalah and Meia lone in their room.

It didn't take long before things got heated.

"So, I grab it like this?" Asalah asked, slowly clasping her hand around Spike's erect shaft. Well, tried to, anyway: it was too wide for her to entirely wrap her hand around it. The aforementioned dragon let out a small grunt of pleasure at her touch: her hand was incredibly soft.

"Exactly, though not too tightly," Meia said, gently guiding her own hand over the zebra's. She had decided it was time for Asalah to learn more about the "carnal arts", as she called them, and right now she was going to teach her three important skills. Well, the only true three she had a leg up over on the zebra in terms of pleasure, but she had practiced enough to know she'd be a good instructor. "Now, gently, and I muss stress the gentle part, slide your hand up and down."

"Like this?" Asalah asked, pumping her hand her hand up and down Spike with much fervor.

"No, no, that's too fast, too early," Meia said, arresting the zebra's hand. They looked up in time for Spike to wince from the sudden motions. "Asalah, you need to start out slow."

"Okay," the zebra said, pumping the shaft, this time much, much slower. Spike let out a low hum of pleasure, the sound sounding once again like a violin.

"Yeah, he does that from time to time," Meia said when Asalah looked at her in confusion. "Keep going."

Asalah continued to slowly pump her husband's shaft until Spike thrust forward slightly with his hips.

"That's the signal to go faster," Meia said, guiding her hand over Asalah's to make her pick up speed. The zebra did so, maintaining a faster pace than before. She did this for some time until Meia removed her hand.

"What? Did I do something wrong?" Asalah asked.

"No, dear: it's time for the next part," Meia said, nuzzling up next to Spike's erection. "Here, smell your husband's musk."

Asalah was hesitant to do so, but she slowly placed her face alongside her husband's dick and inhaled slowly. His thick, masculine scent filled her nostrils, making her legs go weak and her head spin. He was a testament to dragon virility and endurance, as any lesser creature would have come at the sight of two such beauties nuzzling their dick.

She could feel the softness of his scales, their minute size meaning it felt almost exactly like skin. The texture aside, his loins were warm, almost hot to the touch: not that she minded. The overall texture, combined with the pleasant heat and dominating size, meant she was very, very turned on by her husband's genitalia.

Then she heard a slurp. Looking over in surprise, she saw Meia licking up and down their husband's shaft, earning a slight groan from Spike in response.

"What are you doing?" Asalah whispered, her hot breath unknowingly washing over Spike's balls: his tail twitched slightly at that.

"Preparing you for the second lesson," Meia said, slurping up and down the piece of meat like it was candy. "Here: you try."

"I... I don't know," Asalah said, looking at the bulbous cap of her husband's love stick.

"Just try it: it tastes better than you think," Meia replied.

Asalah looked at Meia, then to the giant cock in front of her, and then up to her husband's face. His eyes were closed in pleasure, and his breathing, though quick, was deep: he was having a great time, so why shouldn't she try and make it better?

Tentatively, the zebra mare let her tongue slide out and brush up against her husband's pulsating dick. After a few licks, she retreated her tongue back into her mouth, as if sampling the flavor.

"Well?" Meia asked.

"It's... it's rather... good," Asalah said, sounding a bit puzzled as she opened her mouth again and began to lick in more earnest. "Why is that?" she asked between licks.

"Likely the dragon pheromones: each of us tastes something different," Meia replied, joining her in the licking. Soon enough, with the build-up of saliva, their licks grew longer, covered more area, and became sloppier. Slurping noises pervaded the area as they serviced the dragon, whose breathing was becoming quicker and quicker.

Meia removed her tongue and moved her mouth over the crown of Spike's swollen cock. "Now, like this," she said to Asalah, pushing herself down onto the dick. She made it about halfway before she could go no further, but judging from Spike's sudden spike in humming, it didn't matter.

Asalah watched in rapt fascination as Meia sucked Spike's cock with her whole mouth, drool leaking from the sides as she slid up and down. Her hand worked its way to Spike's base and began pumping hi as best she could, all the while she moaned into the pole of meat stuffed in her mouth.

Spike thrust ever so slightly at these ministrations, which lasted a few minutes until Meia retreated, taking a deep breath to soothe her lungs. "Now it's your turn," she said, gently pulling Asalah closer to the slick rod.

Asalah looked at the giant pole, a hungry gleam spreading through her eyes. Without hesitation, she took the head into her mouth, stretching wide to fit it all in. her own drool leaked form the corners of her mouth, sliding down the drool still left behind by Meia. Then, slowly, she began to go down... and down... and down... until she was farther than Meia had been: significantly father.

"How... how do you do that?" Meia asked in disbelief when Asalah let the cock slide out of her mouth.

"Do what?" Asalah asked, popping Spike's dick back in her mouth, causing the dragon to wince: he almost exploded right then and there.

"Take him so... so... deep," Meia said. Asalah made no motion she had acknowledged her, as the sounds of her slurping had grown rather loud.

Spike was in heaven: why was it every single little thing that went bad in life could never equate to even the smallest smattering of love he felt, and showed, and was shown by, his wives? Either Lady Luck had a severe crush on him, or he lead a very charmed life.

Asalah's ministrations continued for several minutes before Spike let out a groan. "Ladies, I'm... I'm..."

Meia pulled Asalah off of their husband, the shaft exiting her mouth with a loud pop. Before the zebra could protest, Meia pressed the zebra's breasts up against Spike's swollen love stick. She then did the same.

"Pump!" she said to Spike, putting emphasis in her words. Spike all-too-gladly complied, the fire in his loins threatening to burn him from the inside out. With a snap of his hips he thrust one, two, three times between the heavenly globes that were the breasts of his wives, and then he came.

It was not like before, a hose or anything: to Meia, it was like a blast. Hot, sticky seed shot forth from Spike's dick with enough force to sting, almost like rain in a driving wind. It hit her and Asalah square in the faces, making them both gasp in surprise. The next blasts went into their open mouths, which closed in surprise and glee, at least in Meia's case.

The blasts became a steady stream, the thick ooze covering the necklines and breasts of the two mares. Some of it even leaked between them, slowly running down their bellies. Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity of oozing cum, Spike's penis stopped and began to soften.

"Oh my," Asalah said as she swallowed the baby batter. That was... that was entirely unexpected. "Spike, why does your semen taste like honey?"

"Like what?" Spike asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Honey: it tastes like the sweetest of honeys," Asalah said, wiping some from her stomach and brining it to her lips. She sucked it off gleefully.

"It's those dragon pheromones at work again, Asalah," Meia said as she too licked herself clean, her tongue lapping up all the creamy substance she could. "It is different for every pony: I taste strawberries, Maria tastes chocolate, and Trixie told us it was like cream."

"Well, if any of you mares ever get the sweet tooth, you just let me know," Spike said with a wink, glad to have "been of service" to his wives. "Come on: we should get cleaned up. The others will be back soon and I doubt they'd react well to finding out they missed out on some "sweets", as you called them."

The two mares, after licking what they could off of themselves, agreed and went into another room to wash up. Spike washed up in another room and got dressed, glad he had no obligation to leave Maredagascar any time soon. It would have taken away from the beauty and splendor of living in a palace where he wasn't in danger of getting drunk and marrying another sultan's daughter.

When he exited that room, he found himself swarmed by his now-four wives, who proceeded to drag him out of the palace and to the market, where several stagecoaches were waiting for them.

"These will be for the luggage," Maria said. "There's a lot of things to buy down in the markets that would look absolutely fabulous in our home." She had been bitten by the spending bug, and it looked like the infection had spread to the other four.

Spike groaned in his head: this was going to be a long day.

Several hours later...

"Ugh, my feet," Spike said, wincing with almost every step. They had just gotten back and his wives had rushed off to bed, tired from shopping all day. He, on the other hand, had been dumb and/or chivalrous enough to carry their goods back to the carriages. The number of trips he had taken back and forth...

"Ow, ow, ow, ow," he muttered, his words becoming like a mantra as he walked to their room. They were all sleeping in separate beds, more for the sake of room and less for the fact that they each needed space. Sitting on his own bed, Spike removed his clothes and threw himself back, intent on sleeping as the moon shone in the night sky.

However, fate had others plans, as did a pair of eyes watching him. Slowly, quietly, a figure approached him, the clothes rustling ever-so-slightly in the breeze as they did.

Spike heard the rustling and sat up, looking over at where the figure was. "Meia? Is that you?" he asked.

"Yes Spike: it's me," she said, her voice sounding... off. He could see her just fine, but... had she been crying?

"What is it? Is something wrong?" he asked, getting up and walking over to her. She sniffled slightly and let him put his arms around her as the moonlight bathed them in an ethereal glow.

"Come on, you can tell me," he said, gently hugging her against his solid chest.

"No, no, I can't," she whimpered. Just hours ago she had been happy as a clam, and now she was crying?

"Yes, you can," Spike said, putting a slight bit of sternness into his voice. "Couples don't keep secrets from each other, my love: you know that."

This only made her choke back another sob, but she did stop crying. They stood in silence for a few minutes, her breathing returning to normal. She was stalling, steeling her nerves for something: but for what?

"Spike?" she said, looking into his face with teary eyes. "Do you remember where I told you where I was from?"

"Yes: Trotten, I believe," he said softly.

"I... I lied: I've never been to Trotten," she said softly. "In fact, the first time I ever went to eastern Equestria was the day I met you."

"You... you lied to me?" Spike asked, confused. "What do you mean, you're not from where you say you are?"

"Spike, do you love me?" she asked. Okay something was definitely up: something big.

"Yes," Spike said. "You know I love you: so very, very much."

"Spike, will you still love me, even after I tell you something?" Meia asked.

"Yes, of course: I could never stop loving you," the dragon said softly.

Meia sighed: it was now or never. Gently pushing herself back from her husband, she looked him in the eyes. "Promise me you won't shout."

"Wha-?" Spike began, but never finished. There was a shimmer over the pelt of his wife, as if she were water that had suddenly been disturbed. The moonlight highlighted everything he saw, and yet... he didn't know what he was seeing.

Her eyes were green, but her green pelt... it was gone, replaced by sleek, black fur that shimmered like silk. Her horn, as short as any unicorn's, grew long and developed a jagged nature to it. Her mane, once black, became a shimmering shade of green, almost like spring grass. Out of her back emerged a pair of glittering wings, looking as frail as a snowflake on a winter morning. Her hourglass figure, complete with incredibly perky breasts and well-toned thighs stood out in the dark.

Meia was gone: before him, in the same clothes his wife wore, stood...

"Chrysalis," Spike said, his voice a whisper.

"Hello, Spike," the queen of the changelings said, a single tear rolling down her snout. "I'm... I'm sorry."


	28. The Games We Play

Chapter Twenty Eight

The Games We Play

There was silence as the dragon looked at the stunning mare before him. It was complete, deep, pervading the entire room like a cloud of smoke. The moonlight shone through the large window, glinting ever so slightly off of Spike's spines and the changeling's wings.

"Chrysalis?" he asked. "Where... where is Meia?" His voice rose slightly. "Where is my wife?"

Chrysalis blinked in surprise and fear when he took a threatening step towards her. "I... _I_ am your wife, Spike Dragul," she replied softly, wiping a few remaining tears from her face.

"My wife is Meia Morphos, as married to me by the power of King Louis of Prance," Spike said, his tone becoming less calm with every passing second. "What have you done with her? Where have you taken her? Answer me!"

"She is me!" Meia said, her voice a little louder than she had wanted it to be. Looking over at the others' rooms, she looked back at Spike and took a step forward. "Meia is me, I am Meia: we are one in the same!"

Spike stopped mid-step at her hushed tone, the gears turning in his head. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he abruptly turned around and walked back to his bed, a deep growl emanating from his throat. The Queen of the Changelings could hear him grinding his teeth in barely-suppressed rage from all the way over there.

"I don't believe you," he said. "Where is the mare I married? Where is the mare I love?"

"She is here, Spike," the queen said, pressing her hands to her heart. "She is a part of me: she always has been. I am Meia Morphos: she is Chrysalis, Queen of the Changelings."

Spike seemed to descend into another silent rage, though he didn't say anything for a while. He was too focused on something in his head, something he apparently didn't want her to know about just yet.

"Tell me the truth: when did Meia come into existence?" he asked, turning on a heel and pointing at the queen he was married to. "When did my... wife, become real?" There was a dangerous look in his eyes, a look of hurt, betrayal, and righteous fury. That and... was that a tear? It was: Spike was actually crying! That little signal sent a chill up the spine of Chrysalis. She hadn't expected the poor dragon to cry when she told him the truth.

"The day we met on the _Crowhop_," Chrysalis said quietly after a moment of thought. She had to be careful with her word choice, lest Spike completely break down and start sobbing. Yeah, that would go well. "She was my disguise so that none would notice me. A unicorn would have been less noticed than an alicorn, which is why I chose to be one instead of the other. I couldn't perform the magic I knew I would need to as a pegasus, and I could never pass for an earth pony in any form."

"But... why?" Spike asked, sitting down on the bed, some of his anger seeming to leave him. "Why did you do all of this?" On the inside, his inner fire was raging against its chains, demanding that she be punished, preferably in a very nasty way. But that same fire saw her as his mate, his wife, the mother of his foal: he couldn't hurt her. He never would never be able to lay a hand on her; Spike could never bring himself to such a low.

"Because, Spike, I... I had plans," Chrysalis said, deciding to go for broke. "Through you, my dreams would have been realized: the overthrow of princesses Celestia and Luna, the freeing of my ponies from the badlands in which we are forced to inhabit, the love of countless ponies to feed off of: it was all there. It would have been a grand achievement for my ponies, for my kind. We would have won what we had so wrongly been denied: some semblance of happiness for once in our existence."

She could still see it now: her armies darkening the skies, Celestia and her cohorts carried off in magic-nullifying chains, her ponies free from the cursed badlands in which they had been forced to eke out a living... Only now it filled her with disgust and dread, of fear that such a thing was so horrible that she didn't want to admit she had thought, nay, dreamt of it. How low had she sunk in order to fulfill a dream that hadn't even been hers?

"To overthrow Equestria?" Spike asked, jumping to his feet as anger soared back into his voice. "You did this all to take over my home? To ruin the lives of my friends and family? And yet you still think I should forgive you for plotting this? You think I should just sweep that all under the rug and forget that? That I should forget about the invasion of Canterlot all those years ago? You did this all for yourself?"

She felt very afraid right then and there, just from the look in his eyes and the way his teeth were bared. "No!" Chrysalis said. "Well, yes, at first, but things changed, Spike: I changed. I still can't believe how much I've changed." Wow, did that last part sound corny in her head.

"What do you mean, "at first" and "things changed", Chrysalis?" Spike asked, his tail clenching behind him like an angry snake. "How could things have possibly changed? You planned all this from the start, and yet... you still want me to just up and forgive you for all this?"

"It was my original intention to become close to you, to use you... to make of you a weapon I could use to complete my vision," Chrysalis said. "My powers and beguiling nature would have had, what I assumed, was a weak-willed dragon wrapped around my little finger. I knew it would not be easy, what with all the things you were expected to do on such a journey, but I was confident, so sure that I would succeed. What could a young dragon like yourself even hope to do against the Queen of the Changelings, after all? I was strong, leader of a fierce and proud race, with magical powers the likes of which most ponies will never see in their lifetime, or several lifetimes. I thought myself to be strong-willed, impervious to the affections and charms of others. I thought I could handle anything life threw at me on this journey of yours."

"And then?" Spike asked through grinding teeth, his fingers digging into his palms. "What then? What changed, Chrysalis? What made you change so much, as you say you have?" If he had not been a dragon, his fingernails would have been drawing blood, so hard was the pressure on his scales.

"I... I met you: the real you, not the dragon I assumed you would be. Knowing you were royalty by now, I assumed you'd be stuck-up, pompous and self-centered, as have so many other royal creatures I have had the unfortunate opportunities to meet. Instead, I came to see the studious, chivalric, gentle and polite dragon you are, through and through. It was... well, it was a shock, to say the least, Spike. I had never thought you'd be what many would consider the most suitable choice for a lover," Chrysalis said softly. "You saved me twice on the_Crowhop_, at the expense of your own life the second time. Then, once we were in Equineland, you took me on a romantic tour of the countryside, all the way to the White Cliffs of Roaner, taking care of all my needs with little thought of your own."

"So? Any gentledrake or gentlecolt would have done the same," Spike replied. "I behaved as I was taught, something that your kind should have been teaching its offspring." There was slight venom behind his words when he said "offspring", as if he didn't want to say foals. That would equate them as being the same as his friends and family, something he did not want to do.

"But you were no regular gentledrake or gentlecolt, Spike," the queen said, feeling a sudden stab of sorrow when he said "offspring". Changelings were not very different from other ponies, but to call their babies "offspring" and not call them "foals" was to equate them with beasts. "You cared about others more than you realize: you still do. When I could have caught a cold after we were stranded by that thunderstorm in Eqineland, you let me share your bed in that inn. I could have come down with a terrible sickness without your body heat, which you offered freely, and with no expectation of a returned favor."

"Yes, well, I couldn't just take advantage of you," Spike said, some of the anger leaving his voice.

"Any stallion could have, or at least most would have," Chrysalis said. "It would be in their nature, but you are a dragon: so alike and yet so different from us equines in so many ways."

"Get to the point," the dragon said. His patience was wearing thin.

"My point is, Spike, I fell in love with you," the Changeling Queen said softly. "Hopelessly, maddeningly, deeply in love with you. I argued with myself for the longest time that I couldn't be in love with you, and then time and time again, it was revealed to me that you were what I had always needed. Not what I wanted, as wants change with time and are whatever I fancy at the moment."

"I was what you needed?" Spike asked, raising an eyebrow. "Since when did a queen with so much power at her disposal need anything?"

"Power does not bring happiness, Spike: in fact, it more likely drains you of it. I was cold, calculating, unfeeling, all because I had nopony to call my own. I had never known love, nor did I think I was capable of it. I needed you, because you offered me a different choice, a different path."

"And what path would that be?" Spike asked, taking a few steps backwards and sitting down on the bed.

"A path away from the hate and vengeance and insanity that has plagued my life ever since I became a queen, Spike," Chrysalis replied, taking a few tentative steps towards him. "A path filled with hope, and new life, and most importantly: love. I used to think it odd, that we Changelings feed off of love but can't truly express our own: I never had any examples to pick from. But now I see the opposite: we feed off of love because it is what we crave. We want love, need love: to be loved. That is why you have remained strong in my presence, whereas one I did not love would be severely weakened by my draining aura."

"To be loved?" the dragon asked quietly. "You are Changelings: you are incapable of such an action!" He put a bit more force into the words than he would have liked, but he needed to say something he still felt was true. It was true, right?

"No, Spike," Chrysalis said, choking back a small sob at his venomous words. "A changeling must experience a reciprocated love in order to love, which is why our kind has never interacted much with others. That is why I... I love you. I could not love you if the feeling wasn't returned, even if only just. But that feeling is returned, and it changed me, Spike. It made me see how sad and lonely my existence would be without somepony to hold me, somepony to comfort me when life got me down. You... you were that somepony, Spike."

Spike didn't say anything to that for a few minutes: how could he? Here, a long-time enemy of his home had fallen in love with him and was carrying his foal. Plus, she had revealed she had changed because of him, which was something most, if not all, would think impossible for the Changeling race.

"Why now? Why reveal yourself to me now?" he asked softly. "You could have kept up your disguise as... Meia, for so much longer than this."

"Yes, I suppose I could have stayed in my disguise, but things would have become very suspicious in a short amount of time," the queen replied. "Changelings experience much more rapid and unpredictable mood swings than other ponies. Add to that the fact that our bodies are not meant to be heavily pregnant and disguised as another: our magic could harm the foal if we tried that in the later stages."

"Like I said: why now?" Spike asked, a small and sudden feeling of relief sweeping over him. If she had kept up the ruse, especially into the later stages, their foal could have been in terrible danger from the very creature that was carrying it inside of her. And it would have all been Spike's fault, his attitude towards changelings forcing her to keep up the disguise. He could never forgive himself if any of his foals came out damaged due to a decision of his.

"I... I don't truly know, to be honest," Chrysalis said, taking another few tentative steps forward. When Spike made no move to stop her, she gently sat down on the bed with him, though not right next to him. "I saw the happiness in the faces of the others, the same kind of happiness I feel around you. It is love and joy, the likes of which I do not remember much of growing up or even experiencing before I met you. I... I guess I was tired of living a lie, to both you and the others. I didn't want my foal in more danger by keeping up the disguise, and, well... it was about time I did something for others, for once."

"What do you mean, for others?" Spike asked.

"I wanted to spare all of you the pain and anger that would undoubtedly have been far worse if I had revealed myself at a later time," Chrysalis replied, scooting a little closer to Spike. "Since we are early enough in this voyage of yours, or at least early enough with Asalah in tow, I was hoping they'd be more understanding: I was hoping you'd be more understanding."

They sat in silence for what felt like the longest time before Spike spoke again.

"Was it all real?" he asked quietly. The tears had long since dried, but by the tone of his voice, the slightest wrong or troubling answer could set them off again.

"Was what all real?" Chrysalis asked, confused. Spike was showing more mood swings than a heavily pregnant mare: angry, sad, confused, and now sad once again.

"The love, the emotions: all of it," Spike said, a slight tension emanating from his throat. Was... was he going to cry again? "Was it real?"

"Wha...you... YES!" Chrysalis said, dispensing with the distance and grabbing Spike by the shoulders, turning him to face her. "Of _course_ it was all real. Why on Earth wouldn't it be?" Her patience was growing short: she had given out all she could, but now she needed at least some closure, and damned if she wasn't going to get it.

"Well," Spike said, suddenly feeling very exposed to Chrysalis. Wow, he had been angry at her only a few minutes ago, and now he felt vulnerable in her presence? "How am I supposed to know if you mean it?"

"Spike, I love you: I truly, deeply do," Chrysalis said, wondering why males could be so dense sometimes. "Ever since you saved me on the _Crowhop_, I felt something for you. I just... kept pushing it away every time it came up again. I would argue with myself whenever you weren't around until that night in the baron's castle. It was then with the help of your first wife, Maria, that I realized something that I had been trying to deny for the longest time. I love you, Spike; I love you more than I thought I could, or would ever be able to."

Spike felt his heart flutter slightly at this. "But... but... the others-," he began.

Chrysalis placed a finger over his lips, silencing him. "Let me ask _you_ something, Spike. Do you love me?" She knew this was sort of a cheap shot, but she needed him to be with her on this.

Spike's eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. "Well... what... I... I mean... I don't know," he said finally in a rather defeated tone.

The Queen of the Changelings couldn't believe what she was hearing. Here she had poured out her heart and soul to this dragon, and he didn't know if he felt the same way anymore?" "What do you mean, "I don't know"? Is it that hard to think of it?"

"No! I mean... Chrysalis, I don't know what to think," Spike said, burying his face in his hands. "I mean, I fell in love with Meia, and got married to her. Now, after all these miles and the love I have experienced and given, I find out she isn't real. She's the construct of someone who fell in love with me _after _they planned to use me to take over my home! How should I feel about _that_?"

Chrysalis didn't have an immediate response to that: how could she? Spike must have been giving this some thought the entire time they had been talking. "We... we can start over, you and I," she said softly, pulling him closer to her and giving his shoulders a soft squeeze.

Spike was silent for what felt like an eternity. "We can?" he asked softly.

"Of course we can," the queen said softly. She had known this part would come, but coming this soon lifted her heart.

"It won't be the same, you know," Spike said in an equally soft tone. "We'd have to start everything over, from scratch."

"I know," Chrysalis replied. Of course she knew: she had been panning for this since she had decided to tell him, but hearing it now, coming from him, was opening her eyes to the truth for what felt like the first time.

"You'll have to show your true self to the others and deal with the consequences on your own," Spike said.

"I know." She wasn't looking forward to it, but it was inevitable.

"Plus, you'll have to keep up your appearances whenever my friends call us from Equestria," Spike continued. "Also, those letters you've been writing: you'll still be doing it, as to keep up the appearance of being Meia. They'll have to find out sometime, but not now."

Chrysalis was about to protest the part about keeping up appearances, but the look in Spike's eyes shut her up instantly. "O... okay," she said softly, rising to her hooves. "Well, I guess... good night," she said softly.

Spike rose to his feet, looking his wife right in the eyes. "Goodnight, Chrysalis," he said softly, pulling her into a gentle, but very quick hug. Without another word, he turned and walked to his side of the bed, lying down and rolling over.

Chrysalis looked at him for a few more moments before she walked off, the soft clopping of her hooves disappearing as she went into her room. As she closed the door, she looked at the still form of her husband through the smallest of cracks, a small tear forming in her eye.

"I am truly sorry, Spike," she said. "Everything _was_ real, and it still is." With that, she closed the door and went to bed, a great weight having been lifted from her shoulders, only to be replaced by another, equally heavy one. It did not take long before she fell asleep, her few small tears dripping onto the pillows.

Off in the other room, the dragon the Queen of the Changelings had married had fallen asleep as well, a few tears of his own glinting in the moonlight. In his mind's eye, he was no longer in Maredagascar, but back home.

He was surrounded by a dozen foals, all of them showing traits that could only be his. They were laughing and giggling around him as he told them a story from an old book Twilight had given him.

"-and then the elephant said: "You should see the monkey!"" Spike said with a laugh, causing giggles to erupt from all the little draconic foals around him. The littlest one, a little colt, looked up at him in confusion.

"I don't get it," he said.

"You'll understand when you're older," Spike said, his deep voice a surprise, even to himself. "Now, who wants some ice cream?"

All of his children jumped up with joy at this, rushing out of the now-messy room they had all been in. Toys, blankets, even a few small books were scattered all over the place, a testament to the rambunctious nature of his offspring. Sighing, but in a happy way, Spike picked a bit of the room up before leaving it behind. Upon entering the large kitchen, he noticed one thing immediately.

His children weren't there. There were several large tubs of ice cream sitting on one of the tables, complete with spoons and all, but no foals. But... where could they have gone? "Kids?" he called out, hoping they hadn't decided to play an impromptu game of hide-and-seek. The smaller ones had gotten especially good at it: it had taken him almost two hours to find them all.

But there was none of the customary giggling that followed his little fillies wherever they went, nor was there any snickering like his colts would do whenever they hid. He looked everywhere: in the cabinets, in the closets, the pantries: even in the fireplace, the favorite hiding place of his more "dragon-like" foals. They were immune to fire, after all: being part dragon definitely had its advantages.

They weren't there either: now, he was starting to worry. Where could they have gotten to? Had they left the castle entirely? Rushing out of the main rooms and out onto the veranda, he looked around for any sign that they had gotten into the gardens.

All that greeted him was a cold silence, a deathly still that sent a chill up his spine. It was unnatural, it was foreboding, it was... punctuated by a buzzing?

It was more than a buzzing: it was a lot of buzzing, countless buzzing even. Spike looked up as something came in front of the sun. It was... it was...

"An invasion," he gasped, seeing thousands upon thousands of changelings fluttering towards the castle. He... he had to get to the others. He had to find his children; he had to warn his wives.

As the seething cloud of buzzing ponies drew closer and closer, Spike turned and ran back inside, only to find his children all waiting for him in the kitchen.

"Hey dad," said the youngest as he spooned himself a good sized glob of ice cream.

"Kids, we need-," Spike began, before blinking in surprise. His children... were no longer there. They were...

"Dad, is something wrong?" one of the younger fillies asked, her multi-faceted eyes gleaming in the light as she looked up at him. Her glittering wings buzzed slightly as the dull roar that was the massive cloud of changelings outside grew closer and closer.

"No, no," Spike said, clutching his chest as his... what were his children approached him, their dark pelts and glittering wings horrifying him. Then, they would switch, becoming what they used to look like, each change rippling across their pelts.

"Come on, dad: let's play a game!" the smallest shouted as the roar of glittering wings filled the room. Spike fell backwards as his former-children, with fangs bared, leaped towards him, their arms outstretched with their fingers curled into what looked like claws...

"Gah!" Spike shouted, jumping up from the bed. He looked around: there was no changeling invasion, he had no children, and it was morning.

"Oh, thank Celestia," he sighed, putting his face into his hands. "It was all a dream."

"Spike?" a voice said. He looked up slowly from his hands to see Chrysalis in the corner. She wasn't alone: Asalah, Trixie, and Maria were there as well, and those last three had looks that could turn a cockatrice to ice.

"Spike," Maria repeated, her hands on her hips as she glanced over at Chrysalis. "We need to talk."

"I know," he said softly, pressing his palms against his forehead in preparation for what was going to be a difficult day. "I know."


	29. The Coming Storm

Chapter Twenty Nine

The Coming Storm

It was not easy to handle the renewed wrath of three mares, especially when Spike had no back-up from Chrysalis. With her powerful magic, she could easily wipe the floor with all of them, and yet... she remained in the corner, not saying a word as she took every insult and accusation sent her way. Ever since her confession, she had remained this way, and yet Spike hadn't the faintest idea as to why.

"Did you know about this?" Maria had demanded first. "Did you know Meia wasn't... real?"

"I just found out last night," Spike said, sighing for what felt like the fifth time in under a minute. "She told me in confidence."

"How could you not know Meia wasn't real?" the Spreignish noblemare asked. "You are a dragon! Aren't you supposed to be able to... tell these sorts of things?"

"She is real, it's just... she and Chrysalis are one in the same. The same feelings, the same soul, the same heart, the same... everything," he replied. Wow, that was kind of deep, even for him.

"But... she looks so different! She is nothing like Meia!" Maria said, struggling to find the right words. Spike's answer had been rather thorough, as if he had thought these kinds of questions out beforehand.

"So your biggest problem is how she looks?" Spike asked, incredulous and a little angry. What about how he looked? What about how their foals would look? Would she have a problem with that too?

"Well, that, and she lied to us!" Trixie said, crossing her arms over her larger stomach. She was really starting to show, and even though she was beginning to have that beautiful pregnant glow, she could still look intimidating somehow. "Have you forgotten her invasion of our home? Of Canterlot? From what I hear, she almost ruined the wedding of Twilight's older brother: one of your relatives!"

"Yes, yes, I know and remember all of that," Spike said, wishing he could curl up and go back to sleep. The only problem was he'd likely have that same nightmare again, which was something he definitely did not want. "I could never forget that invasion, Trixie: I still have trouble sleeping when I think about it too much. She is not the same now as she was back then: I assure you. She has changed for good: I truly believe that."

"How can you be so sure? She fooled you: she fooled all of us," Asalah said, her voice rather soft for somepony who was supposed to be mad. If anything, she sounded almost... sad. "She dishonored you and the rest of us with her lies: do you not care?"

"Of course I care! Can't anypony see I'm upset over this too? How else do think I would react to the news that the pony I married and who is carrying my foal is not only not who she said she was, but was fooling all of us originally for some great evil plot? How do you think I feel about that?" Spike asked rather loudly, causing his three non-changeling wives to take an involuntary step back.

Spike sighed at their actions: this would only get worse before it got better, and it would take a long time, with plenty of patience, to do so. "Listen, I know you are all upset: believe me, so am I. But please, please, can we just take this slow? I don't want any more fighting, and right now I'm tired of secrets coming to light. So, for the time being, can we just... go on about our lives?"

Trixie and Maria harrumphed at this, leaving the room in a swishing of clothes, manes and tails. Asalah stood where she was, seemingly in thought. Of the three, she had been the least accusing, though Spike wanted to know why.

"Anything left to add?" Chrysalis asked, looking at the zebra. "Any more barbs to throw my way? Any more accusations or put-downs?"

Asalah merely glanced over at Spike before striding over to Chrysalis and doing something completely unexpected: she gave her a hug. Not a light, meaningless one either: it was the deep hug of a friend, of a confidante.

"What... what is this?" Chrysalis asked, freezing as the zebra hugged her. She had not expected this: she doubted Spike had either, judging from the look on his face.

"I forgive you," Asalah said softly, breaking from the embrace.

"But... why? Why so soon?" Spike asked, curious himself as to the zebra's reasoning. "Weren't you just going on about honor and dishonor?"

"She had to hide the truth, as she was taught," Asalah said. "She was forced to wear the guise of a ruler meant to conquer, for her own kind's sake. If she had been weak, or worse, weak-willed, she would not have lived long. She became strong, and in time her foals will be as well."

"How would you possibly know that?" Chrysalis asked, her mouth hanging open in shock.

"Your culture is not so different from mine, it would seem," the zebra replied, her hug only intensifying.

"But, that doesn't-," Spike began.

"There is more, Spike," Asalah said, interrupting him for what may have been the first time in their entire marriage. "She is not unlike me: our cultures force us to wear trappings we do not necessarily want, to dress up ourselves in manners we do not see fit. We both have to wear disguises, whether of the flesh or of cloth. She has had to hide her feelings and true self for so long, she no longer knew who she was underneath it all. She became this "evil queen" of which you speak, through no fault of her own. Her shell, her exterior, became her, trapping the real Chrysalis underneath. I can see it in her, this frightened mare who just wanted something her normal life could not provide. Do you see what I am saying?"

"Y-yes, I suppose so," Spike said as her words washed over him. He had no idea she was so insightful. "So, what you're saying is... she wouldn't have been like that all those years ago during the wedding if she hadn't been forced to be what her kingdom needed?"

"Exactly, dear," Asalah said turning to look at Chrysalis. "Am I wrong in saying these things, Chrysalis?"

"Well, I... no, you are not wrong," Chrysalis said, wiping a tear from her eye. "I remember when I was younger: I was full of life, filled with the happiness young ponies know. I was carefree, and then I became queen."

Her expression turned even more dour at that word: queen. "It couldn't have been a worse time for my kind. Sandstorms whipped through our nation, destroying much of the little cropland we had been able to develop over the decades. With food shortages, a horrible terrible disease sprang up, and many changelings began to die in the catacombs of our capital. My kind cried out for relief, but no help would come our way. How could it? We were shunned, hated by other races: we still are, to this day. And as it grew worse, there were threats, even attempts on my life from those I had sworn to protect."

Asalah and Spike looked at her with wide eyes: this was new. The changelings had a lost history, sure, but nopony other than a changeling really knew that history. There weren't exactly any books on the subject currently in circulation.

"I... I did what I had for my kind and I to survive as a whole," she continued softly. "The sick I had quarantined, the dead... turned into fertilizer for our fields. I put down revolt after revolt, slaughtering all who opposed me, and in the end... my carefree life was gone. I had become cold, heartless, and ruthless: I would do anything to see my dreams and my kind succeed. I was no longer Princess Chrysalis, the Gleaming Gemstone of the Changelings: I was Queen Chrysalis the Vicious, Tartarus-bent on succeeding at all costs."

The other two were silent for a while as Chrysalis tried to regain her composure. Even now, after all these years, she could still remember the faces of those she had had executed, some who had only been trying to give their deceased a proper burial instead of turning them into fertilizer. It pained her to remember such times, even though they were far in the past.

"I am sorry, Chrysalis," Asalah said, hugging her softly once more. Chrysalis hugged her back glad to know at least somepony sympathized with her plight. That was, until a pair of footsteps made them look up in time for two long, scaly arms to wrap around them both.

"I'm sorry too, Chrysalis," Spike said gently. "I... I had no idea of what your life must have been like. I had no idea what you had gone through. I'm sorry I judged you so harshly."

"It is all right, Spike," Chrysalis said as she and Asalah nuzzled into him. "It is all right."

They stood like that for a few minutes, content to just hug one another, until at last a door creaked open, with a zebra poking his head inside.

"Sir Spike Dragul? The sultan wishes to see you," a servant said.

Spike, in a reluctant manner, broke away from the zebra and changeling. "I'd best go see what he wants," he said softly. "I'll see you two later, all right?" He gently cupped their chins up and gave each a soft kiss on the lips.

"Okay," they both replied in unison, sounding somewhat dreamy as he walked off. When the door closed behind him, they found themselves completely alone.

"Chrysalis, would you like me to talk to the others?" Asalah asked softly.

"Yes, please," Chrysalis replied softly, walking over and sitting down on the bed. "I... I'd do it myself, but I just... I just can't deal with their accusations and dirty looks right now. Do you understand what I'm getting at?" She felt so tired, so worn out from all the crying and accusations: she just wanted to lie down and sleep some more.

"Yes, I do," Asalah said quietly. As she walked by, she stopped and gave Chrysalis's hand a soft squeeze. "It'll be alright, Chrysalis," she said. "They will come around: I am sure of it. We have come so far together, you more so than I: we can all make it through this."

"Thank you Asalah," the Changeling Queen said softly as the zebra left the room. "Thank you so much."

Curling up at the foot of the bed, almost like a dog, Chrysalis closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

Meanwhile...

"I trust your stay has been enjoyable?" Abd-Al-Karim asked as he and Spike walked through some gardens. It was bright and sunny, with nary a cloud in the sky.

"Mostly," Spike said truthfully.

"Mostly?" the sultan repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, there have been some... difficulties between us," Spike said, not wanting to elaborate. "It'll pass in time: it's not the first time this has happened." Well, it was, but the sultan didn't need to know that.

"Well, then I trust you'll be happy to know we have a fleet of ships en route from Saddle Arabia. I was informed that your next destination was that country, so I took the liberty of booking you passage on one of the ships."

"Really?" Spike asked, surprised the zhorse planned this far ahead for someponies and somedragon he didn't know. "Well... when are they scheduled to leave?"

"A week from today, I should think," the hybrid replied, ducking under a low-hanging archway. "They would like to sooner, but our unicorn forecaster says some storms will be brewing soon enough. Until then, it'll be too dangerous to travel."

"But it looks fine out," Spike said, gazing up at the sky.

"Appearances can be deceiving, my friend," Abd-Al-Karim said, gazing up at the sky as well. "This time of year, storms can come and go as they please, often passing through violently."

"All I can see are those clouds on the horizon over there," Spike said, pointing in the distance.

"Then I suggest you get whatever leisure time you desire outside, for you won't want to be outside for the next week," the sultan said, looking calm at the prospect of torrential rains.

"A week inside with two hostile unicorns, one sympathetic zebra, and a changeling in the midst of an identity crisis?" Spike thought to himself after he and the sultan had parted ways. "This is going to be bad."

Indeed it was, for no sooner than he made it back inside than a loud, distant boom rumbled across the sky.

"What was that?" a voice called out: it was Trixie.

"Thunder: the sultan said we're going to be leaving for Saddle Arabia in a week," Spike called back.

"What does that have to do with the thunder?" Trixie called out again.

"We won't be going outside again until then," Spike said, preparing for both storms: the one outside, and the one inside.

"What?!" a voice shouted, causing Spike to unintentionally flinch. Maria rushed out, half dressed and her hair half-done up in a set of buns. "It's going to rain for a whole week, and we have to stay inside with... her?" she asked, brandishing a finger at the still-asleep Chrysalis.

"Yes, you are," Spike said, crossing his arms. He was already getting tired of this fighting, even though he should be the one that was the most angry. "So I suggest you make the most of it, Maria: I don't want any more fighting, understand?"

"But I- but she- you- GAH!" Maria shouted, stomping off back into her room and slamming the door. This was enough to wake up the Queen of the Changelings, her eyes fluttering open as she sat up and uncurled.

"What... what's going on?" she asked lazily: a peal of thunder high above made her start.

"We're set to leave for Saddle Arabia within one week, but between now and then, it's going to be raining almost continuously. I suggest you try and get along with Trixie and Maria before we leave: cramped together on a boat will not help any of us."

"Trixie and I have already... reconciled," Chrysalis said. "Asalah served as the diplomat between us, and after a lengthy talk, we decided to put the past behind us."

"But, you were asleep..." Spike said, trailing off in confusion.

"Can't I wake up, talk, and then go back to sleep?" Chrysalis asked, her clothes clutching her bountiful figure while she stretched in bed. Some of Spike's blood diverted from his brain and began to travel south...

"What about Maria?" Spike asked, trying to concentrate on something other than... her.

"No: she's still taking it rather hard," Chrysalis said softly, with a morose tone to boot. "I think it's because we went through so much together as Maria and Meia. She... it's like I betrayed her worse than you, in a way. I wasn't just another one of your wives: I was a co-wife to her, and a best friend. I still wish to be, but right now..."

"It's not the best time: I get it," Spike said, sitting down on the bed as another rumble of thunder sounded above them. A servant rushed into the room and shut the windows, exiting the room in twenty seconds flat. "She'll come around eventually."

"That's another thing: why aren't you as mad at me now as you were when I first told you last night?" Chrysalis asked as Asalah entered the room behind their backs. However, on seeing the pair of them talking, she did a complete 180-degree turn and went back into her room without a sound.

"I... I thought on what you said," Spike replied softly. "I know... I know what you did was wrong, and that my reactions were justifiable. It's just... I can't stop loving you."

"You... you can't?" Chrysalis asked, her heart fluttering within her chest.

"No. Chrysalis, you're carrying one of my future foals: you poured your heart out to me, bared your soul to my scrutiny. How could I hate you?" Spike had indeed been thinking of this for a while now. He still felt hurt by the betrayal, but he was too kind of a dragon, too good of a dragon to stay angry at her for long. He didn't get over it in a heartbeat: it was still there, like a slow-burning ember. It would take time for his pain, however reduced, to go completely away.

"I'm... I'm sorry Spike: for everything," Chrysalis said a now loud boom of thunder sounded overhead. Within seconds, a few pattering raindrops fell against the window. Then more, and more, and more, until one could not even see through the glass, so heavy was the downpour.

"I'll have a server bring us supper," Spike said, gesturing to the table in the room. Standing up off the bed and walking over to the door, he went outside and found one such server, jostling to the sultan's quarters with a tray of desserts.

After asking for something special, Spike returned to find all four of his wives once again in the main room. The temperature could have dropped five degrees, so chilly was the gaze from Maria to Chrysalis.

"Supper will be on its way shortly," Spike said, closing the door behind him.

"So soon?" Asalah asked. "It is not nearly late enough for supper."

"Yes, well, none of us really ate lunch, and it'll be getting darker, earlier, with all this rain," Spike said, his wings rustling behind him. Oh, how he missed a good flight: he had not done so in so long, it was beginning to feel like an itch. It almost reminded him of that time Rainbow Dash had discovered the joys of reading whilst she was in the hospital after injuring her wing. "That means we'll be tucking in earlier, all right?"

There were a few mumbles of agreement, with Maria shooting Chrysalis another icy glare before stalking off, muttering something about "dinner attire". Spike sighed: this was going to be a long night.

When supper arrived, it was delightful enough: several tropical fruits like pineapple, bananas and oranges, rice seasoned with some very tasty curry powder, grilled vegetables, and even some very sweet desserts served with several kinds of nuts. All in all, a very tasty and exotic meal, something they had not had in a while: they all seemed to enjoy it.

But, alas, as soon as the meal was over, Maria went off to her room after bidding Spike and the others goodnight. Except for Chrysalis,: she merely looked at her with cold eyes and walked off, her hoof-steps disappearing behind her door.

"We'd best get to bed: it is getting late," Spike said, knowing full well it wasn't. But with the clouds and the rain outside, it could have easily been mistaken for late in the evening. Everypony bid Spike and one another goodnight before walking off to their rooms, upon which Spike blew out the candles they had eaten by. With thin trails of smoke wafting from the wicks, Spike undressed at the foot of the bed and crawled under the covers.

Booms of thunder sounded above him as the rain continued to pour down on the island. Every now and then, a flash of lightning would shine through his closed eyelids, interrupting his natural process of falling asleep. After a particularly loud boom of thunder, Spike heard something unexpected: a door opening.

"Hello?" he called, hearing hoof-steps. Looking through the darkness, his night vision easily saw who was approaching him.

"Maria?" he asked as she slid up next to him. "What... what are you doing here?"

"The thunder... It scared me," she said softly, crawling under the covers and snuggling up next to him as best she could. "I... I wanted to be by your side: you make me feel safe."

Spike had a feeling something was about go wrong. Another door creaked open, and when he looked at who it was, he knew he was right.

"Chrysalis?" he asked as she too climbed into bed on his other side.

"What are you doing here?" Maria hissed, her gentle demeanor vanishing in an instant.

"I was scared by the thunder," Chrysalis said simply, snuggling up next to Spike as well.

"I got here first: be gone," Maria said, clutching tightly at Spike as if to pull him away from his second wife.

"We will share him, as we always have," Chrysalis replied, snuggling closer.

Maria looked positively murderous. "We have never shared him: I have shared him with Meia. You are not Meia."

"All right, that's it!" Spike said, his sudden grunt making them both squeak in surprise. He looked them both in the eyes before sitting up slightly. "Okay, this is how it's going to be: you two are going to try, and I insist try, and make up, understand? I will have no more of this ludicrous fighting or arguing, all right? I am tired of it: no, I am sick of it!"

He turned to Chrysalis. "You need to try and see things more from her perspective, all right? I know you've been trying, but try a little harder please?"

He turned to Maria in an instant. "And you: Chrysalis is Meia. End of story, okay? She knows what she did was wrong, and she's done so much trying to apologize for it. So, as of right now, I want to see you try and make good with her, understand?"

Neither responded: Spike let out a low growl. "Understand?"

"Yes," they both replied meekly.

"All right: good," he said, leaning back and not hearing two other doors creak open. "Anything else to get off your chests?"

"Can we sleep with you as well?" two voices asked. Spike looked over to see Asalah and Trixie standing by the bed with small blankets.

He suppressed a groan and closed his eyes. "Go right ahead." He didn't mind, actually: the bed was more than big enough for them all to snuggle in.

The other two mares climbed on top of the sheets and snuggled up against Spike's legs, with Maria and Chrysalis, inexplicably turned on by Spike's show of force, snuggled up to his arms.

Even as the thunder rumbled outside and the lightning flashed through the sky, they all slept soundly, especially Spike. No nightmares visited him that night.

Many, many miles away, a lone figure stood upon the rocky coastline, carrying a large bundle in his arms. The wind tore at his clothes, and the rain lashed at his pelt, but he stood solid, stoic in his demeanor. The lightning flashed around him, but he did not stir: the thunder rumbled in his very bones, but he did not move.

"Oh, old ones: take my son, my only son, back to the home from whence our ancestors came," he said, lifting the large bundle up to the sky. With a great heave, punctuated by a cry of great sorrow, he tossed the large bundle into the turbulent waters below, where it instantly disappeared from view.

The zebra stood there for several more minutes, not moving so much as an inch. His son, his only son, had perished. Travelers from a far-off place had stolen his life, had dishonored his family. They had dishonored him, made a fool of him: his power meant nothing to them.

He would see them suffer, as he was suffering. Turning around and walking back to the large shelter his peons had constructed for him, he walked inside and was greeted by saluting troops.

"At ease," he said, looking around. Bright, young faces intermixed with the old, weary ones. He had been doing this a long time: many of them had been. But now, now was the time for his to strike back at these invaders.

"You know why you are here," he said. "Our so-called leaders prostituted us to other countries: destroyed our cultures, our economies, our honor. Our blood has been spilt on our soil. My blood... on their hands."

He looked them all in the eyes, his own burning with rage. He would not stand for this: if he had to hunt these beasts to the ends of the Earth, he would. "They are the invaders. We will hunt them down. For the murder of my son, for the murders of our sons... they will suffer the consequences."

A great cheer rose from the zebras before him as they brandished their weapons in the air. When that convoy of ships came back from Maredagascar with those foreigners on board, they would have no idea what he would have planned for them.

Warlord Undi would have his vengeance.


	30. A Lull in the Storm

Chapter Thirty

A Lull in the Storm

The week of rain began that night, and when Spike awoke in the morning, there had been no significant change in the amount of rain cascading against the window. The sky was still dark with clouds, the temperature had dropped maybe three degrees, and there was standing water on some of the balconies. The jungles and lagoons took it all in stride, the nutrients washing down from the hills into the water causing a burst in life as fish and other creatures descended into a feeding frenzy.

Spike glanced around him: his wives were still soundly asleep, cuddled up next to him under their sheets and blankets. When he tried to slip out of their grasp, he found he couldn't: they were holding on tighter to him than Twilight onto a new book en route to her bedroom for some reading time. That, or Applejack having a choke-hold on Rainbow Dash when they wrestled in a competition: a mud-wrestling competition.

Sighing and laying his head back, Spike had nothing to do until they all woke up. He wasn't about to just up and toss them off of him like some brute: he couldn't do anything. Well, except think, of course: he had plenty to think about. Starting out with all the problems of him now being married to Chrysalis: never mind her being pregnant with a foal of his.

"What am I going to do?" he thought to himself. "She... she lied to me, to all of us, and yet... strangely, I don't hate her for it. Is something wrong with me? Am I too forgiving, too quick to let things slide while others in my situation would go ballistic?"

He wanted to groan in frustration, if only to release the tension within him. "Any of the others would probably banish her or call for a divorce or something. I... I just can't: she's carrying our foal. Sure, she's a queen and wouldn't have to worry about providing for herself, but still..."

He paused his thinking for a second, a startling idea coming to him. "Wait a minute... Chrysalis is a queen," he said softly to himself, his eyes widening. "She's a queen, and I married her: I married a queen. Does... does that make me a... a king?"

"Mmmm... no," a voice sounded by his side. Looking down, Spike saw Chrysalis squirming underneath the sheets, her body pressing more into his as she twisted and stretched. "No," she said again, her voice almost entirely a yawn. "That'd make you a... a consort."

"What's a consort?" another dreamy voice asked as a white mane rose from her position. The mare in questioned yawned, her tongue lolling out as she did so.

"It's a stallion who serves as the father to a queen's offspring, without inheriting the title of king," Chrysalis replied, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with one delicate hand. "The queen's offspring will then become king or queen, depending on their gender."

"Sounds useful," Trixie said, covering her mouth as she yawned. "Why... why was it invented?"

"Royal changelings are predominately female: males are rare, so the bloodline must be preserved," Chrysalis said her free hand rubbed itself over Spike's abs. "That way, the line continues, with every queen knowing she is her mother's daughter and the rightful heir."

The changeling's rubbing of abdominal area was making Spike feel some of his blood starting to drain down to an already-enlarged greeter of the morning. "That's enough," he said softly, pushing her hand away from his lower abs. She must not have heard him, as her breasts pressed against his shoulder.

Maria and Asalah both awoke at this, stretching and arching their bodies. Since their clothes clung to them, it left little to the imagination: not exactly helping with Spike's "below-the-belt" problem. In fact, more blood rushed down there as he watched his still-nubile wives stretching and lightly moaning before him.

Thankfully, though, they got up and went back to their rooms, each saying something about changing into something else. Spike, grateful they went before his penis tore through the sheets in a vain attempt to get some poon, stretched in the dim light from the rain outside. Thankfully the servants had lit some lamps and had them distributed throughout the palace, or else nopony besides Spike would have been able to see very well.

He rubbed his hands over his scales, feeling odd for some reason. A closer inspection proved his thought: he was dirty. How he had gotten dirty was a mystery: perhaps his wives had gotten too hot during the night and had sweated all over him? That would explain the oily residues on his body, since he didn't sweat last night. The night before, perhaps, with that nightmare and all, but last night's dreams had been peaceful.

Sighing as the thought of that nightmare came back to him, he decided a bath was in order, though not a seven-hour bubble-bath like the one he had taken a long time ago in Ponyville. Clutching a sheet around his body like a makeshift toga, he walked around until he found what he was looking for: a large bathtub. It was not built into the palace, but was a massive cast-iron tub that could easily seat three comfortably. Since this area of the world had little-to-know knowledge of electricity, Spike opened the faucet that hung from the ceiling. Instantly, gallons upon gallons of clear rainwater rushed down into the tub, filling it rather quickly.

Closing the faucet, Spike dipped the tip of his tail in the water. "Too cold," he said, though he could barely feel it at all. Bending over, he gently breathed some flames under the tub, which started to heat. Within a few minutes of doing this, though not enough to scorch the tub or heat it so hot it might burn anyone else who might use it after him, Spike had the water at a very relaxing and pleasurable temperature. Dropping the makeshift sheet toga, he slowly climbed into the tub, the warm water seemingly pervading his entire body as he did so.

"Ah, nice" he hissed, his voice soft as he let the ambient heat soak into his very bones, closing his eyes to embrace the feeling. Dragons as a whole preferred warmth, even though they could tolerate a wider range of temperatures than almost any creature. "That hits the spot." The water did little to alleviate his "morning visitor", but he was alone and in a nice warm bath.

At least, until the door creaked open and the soft steps of hooves could be heard. Cracking open one eye, Spike saw the briefest flash of a towel before a figure joined him in the tub.

"Spike? Can we talk?" Trixie asked, the warm water covering her up to the swell of her breasts.

That wasn't helping Spike's morning wood, but he tried to stay focused. "Of course," he said, readjusting his position in the tub.

"Spike, it's the foal," the unicorn said, softly rubbing her hands over her belly underwater.

"Are you both okay?" Spike asked, concern leaking into his voice.

"Yes, yes, we're fine," Trixie replied, smiling at his concern: it was nice to know how quickly he could come to care about somepony. "It's just... I wanted to talk about naming it."

"Naming?" Spike asked, visibly relaxing. "I married Trixie Nixiuba, traveling showmare and magical icon. I thought you were good with names."

"Well, Trixie Nixiuba is my show name," the mare replied. "My full name is Trixie Nixiuba Lulamoon."

"Really?" Spike asked, now confused _with_ a raging boner. "Why wouldn't you want ponies to know your last name?"

"I don't mix business with my personal life, or at least I try not to," Trixie said. "Besides, before I came to Ponyville, I heard about the events of Nightmare Moon. I was afraid my last name might become associated with her: Lulamoon, Nightmare Moon."

Well, that did make some sense, at least. "So... you just dropped off your last name to make ponies less suspicious of your whole name?" the dragon asked.

"Yes," the blue unicorn replied. "I wanted to tell you before, but... I just didn't think I should. I now see I should have told you before: I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," Spike said sweetly, his tail tickling the bottom of her hooves.

She giggled at his ministrations, her hooves reaching down towards him. At once they met a hard, scaly, immovable object, causing her eyes to widen slightly before becoming half-lidded.

"Spike?" she asked, her voice filled with lust as she started moving closer to him. "Are you... excited?"

"Yes," Spike said, wondering why his wives always wanted to shag him. Not that he minded, of course, but still: was he like a sex magnet? "I am... terribly excited. Do you think you can help... calm me down?"

"Oh, I can definitely do that," the unicorn replied, laying her body across his, her wet breasts pressing against his chest. "The Great and Powerful Trixie knows how to leave an audience... breathless, _and_ wanting more."

Spike's cock twitched at this, an extra surge of blood making it act this way: she should call herself "The Great and Powerful Trixie" more often. Though, in this case, a more appropriate title would be "The Great and Horny Trixie". He leaned his head down to capture her mouth with his own, their tongues softly battling one another. Not for dominance, not for control, but to simply enjoy the presence of the other.

Trixie's one hand came up and placed itself on Spike's shoulder, pulling her closer to him: her breasts squashing against his chest as her soft, slightly swollen stomach pressed against his abdominal area. The other hand...

"Trixie," Spike hissed through the kiss as she clasped his throbbing shaft underwater.

"Yes?" she asked in an innocent voice, turning Spike on even more. "Am I doing... something bad? Am I going to be punished?"

She was lucky she was pregnant, or else Spike would have thrown her out of the tub onto a pile of towels, jumped out after her, and rutted her brains out right then and there. "Faster," he said instead, deciding to remain as calm as possible.

Trixie complied, her hand stroking him faster. Spike's blood pumped like it always did: in a frenzy, heating him up to a warmth that could melt a block of ice at a rapid rate. Her soft hands, combined with the smooth stroking brought on by the water, was driving him up the wall.

Her other hand dropped down and joined the first, so that she was now pumping him with both hands. She'd even squeeze every now and then as she pumped, just to force more blood into the already swollen crown. Spike shuddered when one hand left again and traveled down to his balls, gently massaging them. She'd even pinch at the loose scales, pulling ever-so-lightly every now and then, just to tease him.

"Trixie," Spike said, feeling a pooling in his loins. "I'm... I'm..."

"Oh no you don't!" she said, kneeling up in the tub while her hand continued to pump. "You're going to give me my present standing up like a stallion!"

Spike hesitated, but a tight squeeze from her pumping hand made him stand up. Bracing his legs and splaying them slightly to give him greater footing, he watched as his third wife but first lover pumped him with both hands, her breasts and slightly swollen tummy giggling with each thrust.

Spike then watched in amazement as she lowered one hand down into the water, around her marehood area. The other continued to pump, but she then brought her mouth down on the great mushroom cap and started sucking on him, pumping her head up and down as far as she could. Every time she went down, she made a lewd slurping noise, the sound driving Spike over the edge.

With a great burst he erupted into her mouth, just as she went down as far as she could. He felt her lips clamp down around him tighter than ever, so as to let none of his essence escape. He could feel her mouth sucking him down, his baby batter pouring down her throat and into her stomach. Looking down, he could see the large gulps she was taking travel down her throat, the lumps making her look like she was swallowing several large eggs.

"Mmm," she said, removing his now-drained cock from her mouth and licking her lips. "I can never get enough of that creamy taste."

"I don't think you'll ever be deprived of it," Spike said, his voice a bit shallow from his rapid breathing. "Ready for more?"

"Always," Trixie said, standing up in the tub. She didn't get out, however: she simply leaned over, exposing her plump, round rump to her husband, and braced her hands on the side of the tub.

"Come on then," she said, moving her tail out of the way to expose her tight asshole. "Do me like you did in the desert that night.

Spike would never suffer erectile dysfunction around his wives. In fact, from the way things were going, he'd likely develop a perma-boner just out of necessity. He'd go the rest of his life walking around with a giant, continuous erection.

The entire female population of Equestria would likely be thrilled.

Shuffling up behind Trixie, Spike leaned over and nuzzled the back of her neck, his wings folding over them until they were mostly hidden from view. Not that anypony was spying on them or anything, but still: it made it feel more romantic that way.

"Spike?" she asked softly as he continued to nuzzle her. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you ready," he replied softly, his hands coming up to cup her breasts. She whinnied softly as his finger pulled at her globes, twisting and kneading the soft, pelt-covered flesh with great care. Between his pointer finger and his thumb, he pinched the nipples, twisting and tugging on them like he was trying to milk her. Trixie moaned at this: she'd start producing milk soon enough, and if Spike kept having sex with her, someday he'd actually milk her like a dairy cow.

The thought was dirty enough for her marehood to unconsciously clench, even though that wasn't the part his giant dick was going to go in. His nuzzles slowly moved down her back, past her shoulders and into the middle of her back, where his tongue lightly licked the water running down her back.

"Nngh," she moaned softly as she felt his hot tongue on her body. He trailed it lower, and lower, his hands removing themselves from her breasts and traveling to her thighs. Kneeling behind her, Spike firmly grabbed her jiggly rump and spread her wide, exposing both of her entrances to his sight.

His tongue lashing out like a striking snake, Spike plunged his face into her soft marehood, causing Trixie to jump slightly and squeak. "S-Spike?" she questioned, her words faltering as he nipped, licked and sucked at her exposed core. "W-w-w-what are y-y-you-,"

"Shh," he mumbled into her body, the vibrations making her tighten her grip on the side of the tub. "I'm just getting you ready."

"But I don't want to be r-r-ready," Trixie said as her body involuntarily spasmed under his care. "I w-w-want it now!"

Spike ignored her request, instead continuing his slurping. Just as she formed the words to protest again, he suddenly left her and stood up, his dick swinging up and impacting the outside of her now-soaked marehood. She jumped once more, experiencing the shock of a mini-orgasm: something she never had before. He continue to rub his length up and down her exposed flower, coating himself in her free-flowing juices.

"Spike!" she said, her voice an adorable little whine. "Please!"

"Oh, all right I guess," Spike said in a bored voice, moving his coated dick up from her sopping marehood and pressing the tip against her tight asshole.

"Thank you Spike," Trixie said. "I was worried for a second you'd- oh!"

She moaned when he suddenly thrust into her, burying himself about halfway into her tight confines in one fell swoop. Then, without relenting, he continued to push, going deeper and deeper into her until he had hilted himself completely inside her.

Trixie's mouth hung open, but no sound came out: she was breathless from the sudden feeling of being so damn full. She could barely even feel Spike's chest press against her back and his hands come up to place themselves alongside her own.

"More?" Spike asked simply, his smile hidden in her white mane as he smelled her.

Trixie couldn't even speak: all should could do was make a small squeaking noise. Spike took that for a yes, so he withdrew slightly and pumped back into her. His balls swung up and hit her hyper-sensitized marehood, making her convulse unexpectedly.

"Oh!" Trixie grunted, her voice finally back. Every thrust, every rotation of Spike's hips made her body tremble and caused her moan like some back-alley whore. His pumping, while not wild and uncontrolled was nonetheless persistent, measured; relentless. Every time he started to withdraw his wide crown would drag at her walls, only for him to push it back through the area it had once evacuated.

Trixie couldn't hold it anymore: she began to orgasm, shock after shock rocking her body as Spike continued to pump away. Then, on a particularly powerful orgasm, she clenched as tightly as she could.

Spike who had not been prepared for this, and was close to release anyway, found himself constricted, almost painfully, by his wife's ass. Then and there, he released into her, his seed flooding her bowels like a dam bursting on an unsuspecting river. He continued to pour into her, her stomach swelling even more as more and more of his spunk pumped into her bowels.

He tried to pull out, but Trixie's grip remained very tight on him. So, in a fit of brilliance, Spike quickly massaged her clitoris, causing the mare to relax suddenly. As soon as her grip on him was gone, he pulled out, watching as some of his seed leaked out in globs from her round ass. It made obscene splashing noises as it landed in the tub, some of the thick and gooey baby batter running down the insides of her legs.

"Trixie?" Spike asked, dipping quick in the yet-clean side of the tub to wash himself off.

"Y-y-yeah?" she asked, her voice a low moan as her arms and legs began to tremble.

"I think it's time for breakfast," he said, getting out of the tub and drying off with a quick burst of his flames. He helped her out of the tub, gently drying her off with a towel while he kissed her.

"Thank you," she said softly, hugging her body against his as her legs continued to tremble. "I'll... I'll go get ready. We won't have much to do, what with this weather and all."

"I know," Spike said softly as they parted. He walked over to the tub and pulled the drain, watching as the once-clean water drained away.

"I know."

It was indeed a long day: after the bathtub sex, Trixie was almost too tired to do anything but eat with everypony else. The others seemed to know something was up, but Trixie and Spike had no reason to tell them of what had transpired. Other than that, there was the same old, same old: Asalah wanting to comb everypony's mane, Maria refusing to speak to Chrysalis, the Queen of the Changelings making small talk with Spike to try and get back into his good graces. The only real difference was the increase in appetites among Spike's pregnant wives, especially Trixie: in a fit of either maddening hunger or just insanity, she swallowed an entire banana whole without chewing. Spike's blood pooled somewhere in his scrotal region at that sight, but luckily he managed to think of non-sexy thoughts long enough that his "problem" went away quickly.

At the end of the day, when they all retired to their separate beds, Spike made sure each and every one of them promised to sleep in their bed. It was still raining outside, but thankfully the thunder and lightning had not reappeared after last night, so it was just plain old rain. Laying in his bed, Spike closed his eyes and drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, Spike awoke to the sound of heavier rain splattering against the window: it was still dark and gloomy out, so by the time lunch came around, he felt tired all over again.

That was, until the Sultan invited his wives to spend time with his own wife. Maria had politely declined, while Asalah and Trixie had jumped at the chance. Chrysalis had been in her room all morning, so that when Spike emerged from a sex-free bath, he found he was all alone in his room.

That did not last long.

"Spike?" a voice said as a door opened. Looking up from the journal he had finally decided to start writing in again, Spike saw who it was and sighed.

"What is it, Maria?" he asked, standing up. "Am I going to be in the middle of a new fight with Chrysalis?" He sincerely hoped not: it was tiring to listen to such fighting between two who had been such good friends not long before.

"No," Maria replied, her body tensing slightly at the mention of the changeling's name. "I... I just wanted to see you: alone."

"May I ask why?" Spike asked.

"I... I wanted to say I'm... sorry," she said, though by the tone of her voice, she was having trouble saying it in a meaningful way.

"You are?" Spike asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," she replied, sitting down on his bed: he sat down next to her. "I'm sorry for the way I've been acting, Spike. I know I shouldn't be like this, but... I can't help but feel the way I do about Chrysalis. She lied to me, broke our bond of trust: to me, it was like a knife-wound in my heart. I was taught to be better than this, and yet... I don't know, maybe my jealousy and pain is making me appear to not be who I am. Can you forgive me?"

Well Spike had certainly not been expecting an apology like this. "Really?" was all he could say.

"Yes," she said, leaning into his shoulder and hiding her face in the crook of his neck. He nuzzled her hair, smelling the sweetness of her before she unburied her face from his neck and kissed him.

Meanwhile...

"Why did this have to happen now?" Chrysalis moaned to herself, her body feeling like it was on fire. She had awoken amidst a dream-induced orgasm and didn't want the others to know the true reason.

"It is that time in the pregnancy," she had realized, rubbing her hands over her belly. "The time of the horniness." She had hoped it would pass over her, or even not happen until later, but it seemed Mother Nature had decided to pull the rug out from under her hooves. Right now, she was so horny for Spike, she'd shag anything in her way: she even had to restrain herself when she saw how the candlesticks were shaped.

It wasn't her fault, really: there were two reasons she was feeling this way. First and foremost, it was biology: the Changeling species as a whole had severe bouts of reproductive drives matching that of the insects of the animal kingdom. When it became sufficiently wide-spread, orgies were common to the point where entire towns of Changelings were related in one way or another.

The second, and more personal reason, was that Chrysalis wanted to get back into Spike's good graces. She knew their relationship had almost died when she revealed herself to him, and right now it was more than a little strained. She had wanted to ease back in slowly, but with this bout of horniness, it seemed she would have to move back into his graces sooner than she had thought.

The biggest problem, or benefit, depending on how one looked at it, was that the Changeling's severe increase in reproductive drive was produced by a powerful pheromone that stimulated it. This same pheromone could affect nearly every other species they came into contact with, which was one of the reasons the species as a whole had been banished from everyday society: ponies didn't like orgies breaking out at the same times of the year, especially in the more conservative towns and cities.

The mature, sensible side of her brain cried for her not to do this, that she should take her time and make it special. After listening to it intently for several seconds, she shoved it over an imaginary cliff: there was time for waiting, and she was tired of it. Right now was a time for action.

Opening her door, she peered around and didn't see anypony else, so she strode out, completely naked. One small part of her was glad she didn't have to wear the guise of Meia anymore: her slightly wider hips had grown even slightly wider due to her hormones, and her breasts had swollen slightly larger, even more so than they already were. When she looked over at Spike's bed, she saw... he wasn't there.

"Where could he have gone?" she wondered, her arousal increasing to nigh-unbearable levels as the pheromones and hormones and whatever-mones surged through her system. In a frantic series of movements, she checked his bathroom, Asalah's room and Trixie's room: nothing. Then, gasping as though she needed water, she burst through into Maria's room, the doors swinging back to shut behind her.

Maria was there, as was Spike: or at least, Spike's feet were there. At the moment, Maria's beautiful body was laid across Spike's own, her tail up near his face while she gulped down his gargantuan cock.

"Chrysalis?!" Spike called, sitting up quickly. With a shout, Maria tumbled off him and onto his side, his organ popping from her mouth. "W-What are you doing here?"

"I..." Chrysalis trailed off, her eyes focusing on his massive rod, noting how Maria's slobber trailed down it, giving it a peculiar sheen. Inside, her loins tightened at the mere sight of it, her heart fluttering at the thought of all the dirty things she was going to do to it.

"Why are you here!?" Maria shouted, her eyes burning as she crossed her arms over her naked body, trying to preserve at least some decency.

Taking a tentative step forward, Chrysalis looked between Spike's eyes and his still-throbbing piece of meat. "I... I wanted to talk with you," she said, her hips swaying from side to side as she approached them.

The looks on Spike's and Maria's faces turned from shock and anger to bewilderment. "About... about what?" Spike asked.

"This," Chrysalis said as she stopped at the foot of the bed. Like a snake strike her arms shot out, her hands wrapping around Spike's ankles. With the strength of ten whores she pulled him down, her mouth descending on the glorious cock in one swift stroke. Before Spike or Maria could protest, she went deeper, and deeper, and deeper, until her changeling physiology finally allowed her to do something she had been wanting to do since they had been in that dungeon: she had him completely swallowed, her snout tickling where the base met the rest of his body. Her chin even rested against his heavy dragon balls, the heat and the added knowledge of the sweetness lying within making her want to suck them dry.

Spike made a move to disagree with her method, but his eyes rolled up into the back of his head at the feeling and fell back onto the bed as Chrysalis's throat constricted around the rod in her, pulling and sucking on the giant piece of meat.

Maria shouted in anger, a spell shooting out of her horn at the queen. Without even looking away from Spike's groin, Chrysalis shout out a response spell, cancelling out the other in mid-air.

"Why are you doing this?!" Maria shouted, almost springing towards Chrysalis to tackle her off. About mid-stride/leap across the bed, she stopped, her eyes zeroing in on Chrysalis's face. "You... oh... _Chrysalis_..." she said, her voice sounding as if she had had an epiphany.

"Mmph?" Chrysalis asked, Spike's cock still wedged deliciously in her mouth and throat.

"You..." Maria said, her posture changing from one of anger to... arousal. Oh no: the pheromones had gotten to her!

Chrysalis pulled the dragon dick from her airway, causing Spike to moan in disappointment. "Now Maria, listen to me. You don't want to do this, it's just the phero-,"

She was cut off by Maria grabbing her and pulling her onto the bed, shutting her up by pressing her lips to her own in a passionate kiss. Chrysalis tried to pull away, she honestly did, and yet she found she... couldn't. Her mind too was becoming addled, and that meant Spike's was too...

"Ahem?" the two mares heard a voice, causing them to break their kiss. They looked up to see Spike, his hard-on still pointing upwards as he looked at the two mares.

In his lust-addled mind, Spike knew when to take advantage of something too good to be true, and right now, he knew exactly what he was going to do. "You ladies have been very bad as of late," he said, shaking his head at them in mock-shame. "I had hoped you two would be better than this. Looks to me like... you must be punished."

Before the horny and confused mares could say a word, he was off the bed, behind them, and had them flipped over, so that Maria was under the taller Chrysalis and both of their dripping mounds were lined up.

"Hmm, where to put it," Spike said lazily, wagging his dick back and forth behind them. "Where to put it..."

"Me! Put it in me!" Maria shouted, grinding her snatch against Chrysalis's in vain to try and get his attention.

"No! Me! I need it more!" Chrysalis shouted, shoving her breasts over Maria's face to try and shut her up. It backfired, as Maria took one of the tender and swollen nipples into her mouth and suckled on it, earning a gasp from Chrysalis.

"A compromise it is, then," Spike replied, lining up. With a surge of his hips, he slid his giant dick between the two mares, going into neither and rubbing the tender exteriors of their marehoods with his knobby dick.

"Oh!" Chrysalis cried out in enjoyment.

"Mmph!" Maria cried in agreement, her voice muffled by the large nipple in her mouth.

Spike ignored their cries of excitement and pulled out, only to slide back in between them. The two mares' love juices mingled over Spike's throbbing shaft as he pumped between them, his movements making their hyper-sensitive entrances just tremble with need and excitement. He would even move his hips side to side, dragging the massive rod between them from different and surprisingly pleasurable angles.

After a few minutes of this, Maria came, her juices spilling up and out of her and into Chrysalis's own marehood, covering Spike's dick as well. Spike pulled out and watched Maria shake under the changeling, a thought forming in his thoughtless head.

"Little Chrissie didn't cum when Maria did," he said, leaning up over her and repositioning his cock. "Chrissie needs to be punished."

"What? I've been good, I swear!" Chrysalis cried out, her mind addled with lust and pleasure as Maria continued to suck on her nipple. On one particularly hard suckle, she felt something exit the nipple: she was lactating! She was actually far enough in the pregnancy where she was producing milk, but so soon... she hadn't thought it possible!

"No, Chrissie: you've been very bad," Spike said, just as Chrysalis felt a massive mushroom poke against her tone backside. "Chrissie needs to be punished."

"No, Spike, I've been good, I- AAH!" Chrysalis shouted as Spike plunged the great mushroom cap that was his dick's top into her virgin ass, stopping after the first few inches. Then, just as she thought he'd stop, he pushed further, and further, each inch agonizing and intensifying her pleasure to unheard-of levels. Then, when he stopped, and she thought he was going to move, she felt his hand slap her ass cheek, her flesh rolling beneath the blow like the waves of the ocean.

"Ow!" she cried, only to be met by another stinging slap: then another, and another, until they coincided with his thrusts. "Ow, ow, ow, ow!"

"Chrissie, have you been bad?" Spike asked, pounding into her tight ass as he spanked her like a dirty little whore. "Have you been a bad little mare? Do you need to be punished?"

"Y-yes, yes!" she cried, her body shivering and spasming uncontrollably as he pounded into her. "I've been a bad little mare! I _need_ to be punished!" Her ass felt like it was on fire, so quickly he moved, and yet she never wanted that flame to go out. Maria, on the other hand, continued to suckle harder and harder, squeezing more and more milk out of that tender nipple of Chrysalis's.

"Do you like your punishment?" Spike asked as his other hand grabbed his tail and pulled it underneath him. With a flicking motion, he squeezed it between Maria and Chrysalis's marehoods, the extremely knobby texture making both of them moan.

"Yes, yes! Chrissie likes her punishment! Chrissie needs more!" Chrysalis said, all manner of queenliness and serenity gone as she was suckled, ass-fucked and tail-rubbed along her marehood.

"Then Chrissie _gets _more!" Spike roared, the tip of his paddle-like tail shoving itself into the very edges of Chrysalis's marehood. Like that, the sudden penetration, even though it was very shallow, made Chrysalis cum right then and there, the convulsions of her body making Spike finally come as well. Reaching up with his hand, he roughly squeezed her full breasts, making milk squirt out of it and into Maria's face, who's cheeks were full of it from suckling so long. She swallowed it obscenely and licked at the milk running down her face, like a cat might with cream.

Their bodies twitching and trembling, the three rolled onto the bed and collapsed, Spike's rock-hard dick pulling from within Chrysalis's ass with a lurid squirt. Some of his baby batter leaked from her tight asshole, but most of it remained in her bowels, slushing around like a sea in a bottle.

The door opened slightly and Asalah walked in, her face looking out into the other room as she did so. "Spike, are you in here? Trixie want to talk to you about... about..."

Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head as she saw the three laying before her, their eyes burning with lust as they sat up.

"Join us, Asalah," Chrysalis said, her horn glowing. Maria's lit up as well, and soon Asalah was flying across the room, being dragged by a spell. She tried to struggle, but the magic was too strong.

"Join us!" Spike commanded, catching her and rolling her onto her back, his lips silencing her cry of surprise. Maria's magic shut, and this time, locked the door.

"Spike! What has gotten into you?" Asalah asked, her question mumbled by his lips. The same lips soon left and started suckling her breasts, making her suddenly twitch.

"It's not what's gotten into him," Chrysalis said as she slid under Maria, their heads positioned near each other's marehood. Her mane was tussled, her pelt matted, and her mind had gone completely lucid. "It's what's going to get into you!"

"What do- ohh," Asalah moaned as Spike unceremoniously shoved himself into the zebra, making her back arch into an almost complete C-shape. Then, in a grinding motion, he began churning her inside with his rock-hard cock, making the zebra suddenly mewl with pleasure. Chrysalis and Maria, on the other hand, had started lapping at each other's sore marehoods, even more of their juices leaking out onto the sheets as they greedily drank each other. The smell of sex and cum filled the room as the four went at it like horny rabbits.

Soon enough, Asalah felt the pheromones she knew nothing about increase her sexual drive to unlike anything before. Soon enough, she was bucking against Spike with all her might, making the whole damn bed shake as they met thrust for thrust. "Buck me!" she cried, her hands going up to her breasts and almost violently twisting the big, puffy nipples. "Buck me 'till I can't walk you big-dicked dragon stud!" Her nostrils flared as she said this, with her hands pressing her large breasts together, making them even perkier than normal.

Spike complied, and by complied, he flipped her over onto her stomach with himself still inside her, not even missing a beat as he continued to pound into her wet cunt. He didn't care that she was talking dirty: in fact, it excited him even more. He continued to pound into her, even after he suddenly came and filled her insides with sticky cum. That only made it easier for him to move, so he moved faster, until he was pistoning in and out of her light a freight train. Asalah, on the other hand, had lost count how many times her brain had exploded with pleasure, and right now, she could feel her tongue swelling as she became more and more lurid.

"Asalah want treat!" she cried as she came again, this time at the sight of Maria and Chrysalis munching on each other's marehoods. "Asalah _needs_ treat! Give Asalah what she wants!"

"Asalah want's treat?" Spike asked in broken Equinish, flipping her over and pulling her closer to the others. "Asalah get treat!" He kneeled down and placed his giant, cum and pussy juice-covered cock between the zebra's large breasts, the soft pelt making him leak more cum that had not been entirely expelled from his member..

"You two: clean her cooch," Spike said, pointing from Maria and Chrysalis to Asalah's cum-leaking cunt. Rolling off of Chrysalis, Maria was the first on the scene, though Chrysalis's head soon joined her as the buried their faces in the zebra's marehood.

Spike began thrusting between Asalah's breasts, his eyes hypnotized by their movements as they bounced with every thrust. Asalah reached her head down and enveloped the great mushroom cap that was the tip of his dick every time he thrust forward, trying to suck him deeper into her cavernous maw.

They all continued like this: Maria and Chrysalis eating out Asalah with gusto in order to get Spike's sweet treat he had left behind, and Spike himself thrusting between Asalah's glorious breasts, his hands squeezing them together around his cock.

Then, as everyone began to orgasm in an even more uncontrollable manner, Spike raised himself up and held himself above Asalah's face, his cock almost poking her in the eye. "Suck!" he ordered, only to have Asalah reach up and pull him into her mouth with suction alone. Spike, near the end of his limit, both hormonally and endurance-wise, began to thrust in and out of the sweet mouth, making Asalah gag every now and them.

She didn't care: even as she "_gak, gak, gak,_" sounds with her throat every time he thrust too deep, she was in heaven. Then, she felt his dick swell and closed off the air to her lungs. Spike came, roaring incoherently as he poured his last shots of cum down Asalah's throat. The other two, having worn themselves to exhaustion, watched as Asalah held the giant cock in her mouth, with what looked like eggs traveling down her esophagus. Everypony could even see her belly swell as she used her hands to pump the cock more, forcing more and more of the delicious juice into her hungry gullet.

Spike withdrew, letting a small squirt land in the valley of Asalah's breasts. With a small burst of magic, Chrysalis had it soar lazily into Maria's mouth, kissing her when it went it. Asalah lay back, her body convulsing as her eyes closed. Spike fell to the side, his dick slapping the side of Asalah's face as he did so. The force of the dick-slap, though minor, was enough to make the zebra mare's now-swollen belly jiggle slightly.

She didn't care, and the same was true for everypony else in the room. Covered in sweat, pussy juice and Spike's dragon cum, they all fell asleep, tired from the orgy that surely would be the stuff of legends had it happened in a public place.

Then Trixie walked into the room, saw what all the commotion was about, and shouted so loud ponies as far as Neightaly might have heard it.

"CELESTIA BUCKING DAMN IT!"


	31. Full-Blown Gale

Chapter Thirty One

Full-Blown Gale

Trixie wasn't exactly happy at the end of the week after she had found out about her missed orgy. "I would have liked to have been in on that," she mumbled in a pouty voice as they boarded the ships. The rain had finally stopped, and right now everypony on the island was trying to dry out anything that was still wet.

"Trixie, I already gave you a "gift" in the bathtub, remember?" Spike said as he helped them over a narrow gap.

"I know, but still, it would have been nice. I've always wanted to be in one, especially with those I care about," Trixie said, before noticing something odd. Maria and Chrysalis were walking side by side on the ship: not talking, but they didn't look unhappy either. "They make up?" she asked nodding their direction.

Spike knew in an instant to whom she was referring. "Not exactly: they're on much friendlier terms, but it's going to take more than an orgy to make them friends again." A pair of zebra mares walking by gawked at Spike when he said this, their stares lingering on his frame as they continued on their way.

"Best be careful when you say things like that, husband," Asalah said right behind the dragon, making him jump slightly. "There are plenty of mares out there who would adore having your "main mast" probe their unexplored depths." Ah, dirty nautical terms: if the ship had been out at sea, and they were the only ones on it, Spike would be fine for another orgy: or two.

"I'll keep that in mind, Asalah," Spike said in a mock-serious tone, his grin and twinkling eyes betraying the laugh he was suppressing.

"I don't know, Spikey-Wikey here is more than capable of pleasing any lady he meets," Trixie said, her tail flicking against his crotch as she walked past.

Meanwhile...

"Dammit! There it goes again!" Rarity shouted after her fist involuntarily put a hole through the table she was sitting at. She looked up to see the confused faces of her friends. "What?"

"Rarity, are you okay?" Twilight asked slowly, her magic fixing the hole.

"I'm sorry Twilight dear: it's just... someone is using my pet name for Spike," Rarity said. "I don't know how, but I can tell when someone does. It's the second time it's happened in a week!"

"Rarity, sugar, don't ya think you're bein' a bit... overzealous?" Applejack said, earning a stare from a few of the others. "What? Can't a farm pony know some fancy dictionary words too?"

"Dictionaries aside," Twilight began. "Rarity, I'm sure it's nothing."

"Yeah, it's not like they're screaming his pet name during climax or anything," Pinkie Pie said in an entirely calm voice. "Ponies don't usually do that during orgies: not that I would know or anything," she added, seeing the looks on everypony's face.

"Pinkie, I don't know where you get your ideas, but now is not the time to mention that kind of thing," Rainbow Dash said in an oddly lady-like manner, which was gone in an instant as she smiled in a mock-lusty manner. "Everypony knows Spike is not the kind to descend into an orgy with his wives."

Pinkie's tail twisted behind her, but she didn't say anything to that. Fluttershy, on the other hand, had her eyes go wide at the mention of an orgy and politely excused herself from the table, heading up to the bathroom for some "personal time".

Back in Maredagascar, the ships had finally cast off from the port and were on their way to Saddle Arabia. The skies were clear, the wind was strong in the sails, and the sea was rather calm in comparison to the Barnlantic Ocean.

It didn't stop things from getting heated down below. "How long until we get there?" Maria asked as she looked over her letter to Spike's friends back home. Deciding now was as good as any time to do so, Spike had them all begin new letters, with Chrysalis still writing under the guise of Meia.

"A week or so, given this wind doesn't quit on us," Spike said, remembering what the captain had said. "So, we have a free week of nothing to do."

"Oh, I wouldn't say nothing," Trixie said, rising from the bed as her horn glowed. The door to the room shut, and an audible click was heard: she had locked it. "There is _one_ thing we can do." The other three mares looked at him: they had been planning this.

"Play some checkers?" Spike asked meekly as the four mares pounced on him.

Meanwhile...

The spray of the sea splashed against the decks of the gathered ships, the cloudless sky still seeming gloomy amidst the bright rays of sunshine. Hundreds upon hundreds of zebras milled around, loading supplies onto the ships and generally preparing themselves for what was about to come. Paint covered much of their exposed bodies, the red making them look all the more fierce.

A single zebra stood at the head of the lead ship, his own war paint a black that covered his white stripes. He looked out over his gathered fleet and forces, his black heart filled with malicious glee and a burning hatred.

"We are almost ready, sir," a red-painted zebra said, bowing before the first.

"Excellent," Undi said, his eyes never leaving the gathered forces. "When we are, we set sail: any stragglers are to be executed immediately."

"As is your will, sir," the second zebra said, bowing again before leaving the insane zebra alone.

"You will not escape this time, dragon," Undi said softly. "You have no airship this time, and your wives cannot fly away like you can." He smiled at the thought of those mares.

"I will kill his descendants before his very eyes."

Meanwhile...

After three days of intense, uh... checkers, Spike was sore. Okay, he was more than sore: he ached, and he was pretty sure he was chafing: Tartarus, his dick even felt like it was on fire half the time.

Coming up onto the deck, Spike looked out over the horizon, the soothing wind relieving some of the tension in his muscles. The smell of the salt from the splashing waters stung his nose, but it still was refreshing from the sex-filled air of down below.

Some ships off to the side of the convoy had a few smaller ones sidling up near them, but he paid them no mind. It was so nice out as the sun began to dip towards the horizon, where it would eventually disappear in a few hours.

"Having a nice break?" a voice said behind him. Turning around, Spike saw who it was.

"The first in too long," he said as Maria came up alongside him. "Why are you four so damned horny? Can't you let me sleep at night without having to wake me up by sucking me off?"

"We can't help it: you taste too good," Maria said, absentmindedly flicking some of her hair behind her shoulder. "Besides, I came to talk: Chrysalis is having mood swings again."

"Third day in a row," Spike muttered, wondering why Trixie, who was further into her pregnancy, was not experiencing the same. They had awoken to find Chrysalis almost shanking a zebra mare maid who was eyeing her husband, and then the poor mare had almost been sexually assaulted by the changeling when she tried to apologize. Chrysalis had been locked in their room since then, and right now, it looked like she wasn't going to change soon: her last emotional outburst had been some lewd sexual insults at some dolphins that jumped past their porthole.

Thankfully the pheromones had finally dissipated, or else Spike might have gotten every female on board pregnant, and then moved onto the other ships. That would not be something easily dismissed or pushed aside in political circles: "Royal dragon impregnates hundreds in massive pheromone-fuelled orgy" was not a title he ever wanted to see in a newspaper, or anywhere else for that matter.

"Talk about what?" he asked, snapping out of his trance.

"Saddle Arabia," Maria said softly. "I was wondering about their-,"

Her words were cut off by a massive explosion: off in the distance, the ship that had been surrounded by smaller ones exploded, sending a massive fireball into the air. Wooden shards, some of them the size of a pony, rained down all over the place. The mainmast of the doomed ship fell over, causing the burning wreck to fall over onto its side.

The shockwave of the blast reached their boat in an instant, knocking Spike over and making Maria land on top of him. Warning bells and horns rang as sailors rushed out of seemingly everywhere, shouting and bellowing orders as they did so. Some began to load the cannons, while others pulled ropes and opened up the sails to increase speed.

"What was that?" Spike shouted as he and Maria rose to their feet and hooves, respectively.

"Pirates!" the captain shouted as small plumes of smoke came from the smaller vessels: soon the air was filled with steel shot, the small projectiles cutting through the mainmast and punching holes in one of the crew. Blood spurted everywhere as crew fell, some instantly dead and others unfortunately still alive. One screamed when he saw his hoof above his head: it had been completely severed.

"Get down below!" Spike yelled to Maria, who took no time in doing just that. There was another plume of smoke from the ship as they circled the convoy like sharks, this time larger steel balls slamming into the ship's mainmast. Splinters rained down, and one of the larger rigging poles fell, its ropes severed by the shrapnel.

Spike managed to throw himself out of the way of the falling piece of timber, looking in time to see it crash onto the deck, buckling and splitting the wooden surface beneath it. That had been close: too close. Another shard of wood, easily three inches thick, thudded into the deck where his tail had been.

"Return fire!" shouted the captain, blowing into a horn soon after. All around, the convoy ships revealed their own cannons and fired, sending hot death towards any pirate ship too close to their hulls. Most of them missed, as the panicked crews had not taken the time to aim and lead the target. The ship Spike was on, however, got in a lucky hit on one ship: a massive plume of fire erupted from near the rear of the enemy ship, signaling one of the smaller powder stores had been struck.

The pirates returned fire, strange twirling things spinning through the air from the cannons. "Chains!" shouted the captain, the tone of his voice making everyone, including Spike, dive for cover. One crewpony was too slow: the chain impacted and wrapped around him so quickly and with such force, it tore him in half, both bloody halves soaring back over the side. The other chains impacted the sails and tore through the support beams like a hot knife through butter. More wooden splinters, some of them a good three feet long, rained down on the crew, one of the sharper one piercing the hand of one: he screamed as he found himself pinned by said hand.

Spike ran over and yanked the wood from the floor, freeing the zebra's hand even as a spurt of blood followed it. With a whimper, muffled by him biting down on his arm, the zebra nodded in thanks and went over to another who was handing out bandages as fast as he could. The few dead on board were being quickly moved over into a row, though there was no time for them to be properly honored as of yet.

"Can you help us?" the captain shouted to Spike as another volley from their ship went into the lines of the pirates. One of the mainmasts on a pirate ship collapsed in on itself, effectively rendering the ship dead in the water. That did not mean it couldn't still fire at them, as it did before the other pirate ships.

"I guess: what do you want me to do?" Spike shouted as another plume of smoke rose from the pirate ships. More of the sails of all the convoy ships became tattered from the shot, and one of the others began to exude smoke from all the hatches: a furious fire was burning below.

"Set those ships on fire!" the captain shouted, pointing at the pirate ships. Wooden hulls, cloth sails, gunpowder stores on so many of the decks: it was a pyromaniac's dream target come true.

"Okay!" Spike said, opening his wings. With a gust of wind aiding in his ascension, he flew into the air. Mere seconds later, the burning ship's powder kegs lit, and the tremendous explosion knocked over everyone on the top of the ship he had just been on. That same shockwave made his blunder through the air, regaining his sense of direction before he could splash into the water below. The impact would have likely knocked him silly, if not outright unconscious.

Flying like a massive bat, Spike flew low over the water, avoiding dozens of crossbow bolts as he approached. Why the zebras still used crossbows, he didn't know: nopony in the world had discovered a way of miniaturizing a cannon, so they remained a staple long-ranged weapon. He spun in time to avoid what looked like a combination of a giant crossbow bolt and a grappling hook: a ballista bolt. Lowering his shoulder, he flew straight into the side of the ship, punching through the wood and into the interior of the ship. Rolling onto his feet from the landing, he met a machete blow with a swipe of his tail, sending the snarling zebra through the hole he had just made and back out into the sea.

Opening his mouth and sucking in a large lungful of air, Spike let loose a torrent of fire, setting ablaze the other zebra pirates headed right towards him. They dropped, screaming in agony as they tried to put the flames out. The rest of the interior was soon filled with hungry flames, which inched closer and closer to barrels of explosive powder.

Spike jumped back out through the hole he had made, performing a swan dive into the water. Seconds later, a massive eruption of fire spread over the surface of the water, making the clear sky above the water turn a fiery orange. The ship blew apart, chunks of flaming debris, some of it former pirates, splashing into the water everywhere.

Swimming up to the surface and leaping out the water, Spike flew off towards the next ship, just as a plume of smoke erupted from its side. Spike spun, hearing as the larger shot whizzed past him. Then, there was one big puff of smoke, and almost in slow-motion, Spike saw the seemingly massive cannonball travel past him and strike the side of the ship he had been on, punching right through near the waterline...

"No!" Spike shouted, his thoughts immediately going to his wives. They were in the lower hull of the ship! Flying over the enemy vessel, he let loose more flames, a virtual geyser of super-heated plasma, setting the whole ship ablaze like a massive torch. Turning as flaming zebras, screaming bloody murder, jumped off the dilapidated vessel, he flew back to his own ship, flying through the large hole the cannonball had left behind. The hole grew smaller, and then he forced himself through to enter where it must have almost come to a complete stop.

He found himself in one of the store-rooms, surrounded by debris. "Trixie? Asalah? Maria? Somepony speak to me!" he shouted, digging his way towards where he knew his room to be. Somepony, anypony: answer me!"

"Spike!" a muffled voice said, causing Spike to renew his efforts. Bursting through a few fallen beams, he found himself in the hallway that lead to their room, with a great gaping hole going right through the wall. Kicking the door open, he found Maria, Trixie, and Asalah all huddled on the floor.

"Oh thank goodness," he said, kneeling down to hug them. "Are you all right? Are any of you hurt?"

"No, no, we're fine: it missed us," Trixie said, her body still shivering from the shock of so narrowly escaping death.

"Spike looked around. "Where... where's Chrysalis?" he asked. She was nowhere to be seen.

"You have to stop her, Spike!" Maria said, causing Spike to look at her in confusion and concern. "She's experiencing another mood swing? She went up topside!"

Without saying another word, and giving them all a quick hug, Spike ran up the stairs in the ship, jumping up on the deck in time to see another one of the pirate ships explode in the distance. There were only a few left, but now they all seemed to be heading in his direction...

"Chrysalis! What in the name of Celestia do you think you are doing?! Are you insane?!" Spike shouted, seeing her standing in the middle of the deck, her gaze out at the pirate ships. He rushed up to her side, but as soon as she did, she looked him in the eyes, and... and...

"_They almost killed me,_" she whispered, the sounds of battle seeming to fade away as she did. "_They tried to kill me, and our foal._" Spike felt afraid at that moment: the green fire in her eyes was almost as palpable as the fire and smoke swirling around them.

"_I will not stand for this!_" she cried out, her horn glowing a bright green. Then, in a voice not entirely her own, she shouted: "_Dark skies, blacken the sea: rain down retribution for me! Thunder, lightning, winds of doom: send them all to a watery tomb!_" Her horn shot a large beam of green light high into the sky, causing what looked like a small firework to explode where it ended. In an instant, the clear sky above began to form small white clouds, which grew steadily larger, and darker, and fiercer-looking, until...

Darkness descended over the ocean as a wall of rain came down from on high, many of the fires on the ships being put out in an instant. Thunder rumbled, and from up above, a bolt of lightning shot down from the sky, it's jagged arc searing itself into the visions of anypony who happened to be looking in its direction. It impacted the waterline of one of the pirate ships, right where the powder room was located. In an instant, the wooden boat was vaporized, flaming little bits of it falling here and there.

Spike looked back from the carnage to see Chrysalis swaying, her eyes wild, her lips pulled back in a vicious snarl and her mane whipping around her in the suddenly intense wind generated by her magic-induced storm. Her horn glowed brighter as she fell back, her eyes closing as Spike caught her.

As the warm rain continued to pour, soaking the mare to the bone, Spike rushed back down the stairs, bursting back into the room where his other wives were. "She's passed out," he said at their terrified looks. "She summoned a storm out of nowhere!"

"She summoned a storm? By Celestia..." Trixie muttered, her eyes nearly bugging out of her skull. Storm spells that acted instantly were reserved for only the strongest of magic-users.

"We'll take it from here," Maria said, taking the soaking Chrysalis from Spike's arms and laying her on the bed after clearing it of some woody debris. Nodding in thanks, Spike rushed back up in time to see one of the cannons gets blasted apart by a pirate cannonball, sending one of the crew into the ocean in several pieces. He spotted the captain and rushed over, noticing the pony's arm in a sling.

"What's the situation?" he asked the zebra. The rain was washing away some of the debris, but at the moment, the cannons on the top deck couldn't fire: their powder was soaking wet. This severely reduced the firepower and defensive capacity of the ship, making it an easier target for the pirates.

"They're almost done for, but so are!" the captain said, not even flinching as another cluster of cannonballs impacted what was left of the mainmast. "I don't suppose you can just light them on fire again?"

"Not in a rain squall like this," Spike said as another bolt of lightning struck near another pirate ship, the sheer power of it making the water flash-boil and cooking a few pirates standing too close to the side. If they weren't careful, they themselves might stray too close to where the lightning was and get themselves zapped to oblivion.

"Well, can't you breathe any other kind of fire?" the captain shouted as another volley slammed into the side high above where Spike's wives were. "You're a dragon!"

Spike ignored the little pieces of wood that bounced off his frame. "I'll think of something," he said, leaping into the air and flying off. Circling the ship like some great bird of prey, he spotted one pirate ship in particular moving closer to his own ship, bypassing the smoking wrecks that were two of the convoy ships. Diving down, he landed on the deck, or more specifically, on a zebra pirate, crushing him as he landed.

Spike let loose some flame, but it went out quickly in the heavy downpour. Backhanding an attacking zebra so hard his neck snapped, Spike tried again, this time putting more force into it: the same result.

"Dammit, this isn't working!" he thought as he used his tail to smash a pirate into the mainmast. Luna had taught him so much about pyromancy and the ways of dragon-fire. If only he could remember...

"Wait," he thought, a lesson coming back to him as a zebra struck with a machete: it bounced off and went back into the zebra's eye, making him howl in pain as blood spurted everywhere. Dragon-fire had many properties, as well as many uses. There were the cleansing flames he had used before, the fire he had just used, and the slow fire he had used to heat the tub...

"Ah," he said, remembering the right combination of phlegm and fire to create just what he needed.

Meanwhile...

"I said fire again, fools!" Undi shouted, walking past his cannon crews as they hurried to return a salvo of steel shot. The deck was splattered with blood, bits of bone, and uncounted numbers of wooden shards.

"The cannons are overheating, sir!" one zebra shouted. "If we try to reload too soon, we'll risk blowing it up!"

"Silence!" Undi responded, smacking the zebra upside the head with his machete, the blunt side leaving a nasty-looking but relatively harmless gash. "If you don't reload, the next thing fired at those ships will be _you!_"

All of the crew who heard this tripled their efforts at reloading and firing, not wanting to be used as ammunition for the cannons they were working on.

"Sir!" another zebra said, rushing up to the warlord with a bandage covering one of his eyes. "Sir, another ship just went down!"

"How? This storm is putting out any fires out there, and they're down to less than half strength!" Undi shouted. "This rain is taking out their deck cannons!"

"Not all of them, sir," the zebra said, his voice hushing when he said this. A peal of thunder, punctuated by cannon fire, sounded off in the distance.

Undi's eyes narrowed: "Not all of them? What fire can withstand such rain?"

"You... you might want to look for yourself, sir," the zebra said, trembling as his eyes watched the machete in the warlord's hand drip some blood.

Huffing in annoyance, Undi followed the zebra up on the ship's deck, the rain instantly drenching him to the bone. He looked out at the somewhat intact convoy, and then he saw it.

A flaming streak arced through the sky and impacted a distant pirate ship, punching a flaming hole through the side. Undi watched as the streak came out the other side: seconds later, the powder in the ship exploded, lifting the entire boat out of the water as its hull shattered. A massive, rolling ball of flame spread out into the sky above as the ship fell back down: in seconds, it slipped beneath the waves like a stone.

The flaming projectile turned up from its water-bound trajectory and turned up, flying up into the sky before it turned again and went back towards the ocean.

"That is no projectile," Undi said as the flaming stream impacted another one of his ships.

"Then what is it?" the other zebra asked as the fiery mass exited the ship and turned in their direction. That ship, the last of the other ships under his command, detonated as well, splitting apart like a ripe mango falling off a mountain.

"Get down!" Undi shouted as the mass of flame passed overhead. One zebra on deck was not fast enough, and his torso toppled over, his lower half still standing: the flames had scorched it completely, so there was no spray blood.

The fireball turned up and spun down, landing on the deck. Rising up onto its feet, it looked around, the flames boiling over its body like a curtain of unearthly death.

"You thought you could threaten my family and get away with it?" Spike asked, his voice a roar as bits of flame dripped off of him, just like burning oil. "You thought you could justify the death of your son by taking my family from me?" He didn't need to know it was Undi: Bara's promise had been valid, but the deluded fool had had no idea what happened when a dragon was truly pissed. Besides, the zebra looked exactly like his son, only this time... he wouldn't burn as long.

In an instant, he was upon Undi, his flaming claws grabbing the zebra by the throat and lifting him up. As his throat burned, Undi could not say a single word as this flaming specter looked him over, disdain filtering through the flickering flames.

"Goodbye, Undi: we shall never meet again." With that, Spike wound back and tossed the zebra off the ship, watching him soar through the air and into the water. Looking around and ignoring the zebras who simply tossed themselves off the ship, Spike found what he was looking for: the powder store. Flying up into the air, flames still trailing after him, he spat out an enormous fireball, watching it burn as it fell towards the ship. When it impacted, the ship cracked down the middle, splitting amidst a roar of flames and breaking wood.

The two burning pieces fell over, secondary explosions littering the burning frame as Spike descended into the water. Emerging amidst a geyser of steam, now flame-free, Spike rose up and flew back to his own ship, truly noticing the damage for the first time. It looked as though a giant had grabbed it between two massive hands, had shaken it, and then drop-kicked it across a football field. Other ships in the convoy looked the same: the ones that weren't sinking, anyway.

Landing on the deck, Spike saw dozens of bodies lying in a row, the blood smearing all over the deck as the rain washed it away. Small burning embers here and there still persisted, but they too were soon extinguished. The captain was leaning against a table, watching as a zebra patched up a limping sailor: one of his legs was gone right above the ankle.

"Is it over?" the captain asked when Spike approached, having helped another amputee to his hooves.

"Yes," Spike said, looking out over the horizon as the wind and rain continued to batter the weary and injured crew. "Yes: it's all over." His family was safe, and the pirates were dead: all that was left was to arrive in Saddle Arabia before their ship sank. Landing on shore was a no-go: pirates not on the ships still controlled the shores, and they would all be easy pickings in their current state.

He was not sure if they would make it to Saddle Arabia: all he could do was hope the ship would hold itself together long enough for them to do so.


	32. Arabian Arrival

Chapter Thirty-Two

Arabian Arrival

The sun shone brightly over the capital city of Saddle Arabia as the royal heads of the state headed down to the port, resplendent in their fancy clothes. Golden threads, the finest of silks imported from the East, small jewels dug from the craters of long-ago comet impacts: they looked fabulous. However, today was not just some jaunt out into the city to survey the small fraction of the kingdom they ruled. They were expecting visitors, and an advanced letter had told them of the visitor's relation to their old friend, Princess Celestia.

"How soon do you think they will arrive?" the king asked looking out over the harbor as their carriage wound down the cobblestone streets. He had the features of a strong pony, though much of it had been weathered by age, the sands and the harsh desert sun. His mane was not as thick as it once was, and the small amount of facial hair he had left was flecked with white and gray. Wrinkles perforated his face, as if his skin had permanently dried under the sun that beat down mercilessly every day. He slouched slightly, the result of often bearing the weight of his nation on his shoulders like a physical burden.

"Not long, husband," the queen replied, her serene gaze looking out the other window. "They left Maredagascar a week ago: they should be here very soon." The queen too was in the twilight years of her prime. She must have been very beautiful, but the wrinkles she had were the same as her husband's, and her mane had small streaks of white in the once completely-dark hair. Though it was hard to tell under her clothes, she had once been svelte, thin, an hourglass figure that would bring any stallion to their knees. Now, she was still thin, but age had sapped away some of her body's charm, and while she still looked good, she was nothing like she used to be.

"I hope so," the king said, sighing slightly as the carriage moved along the somewhat deserted street: partly due to the presence of the royal guards, and partly due to the distance from the business center making it an unprofitable place to set up shop. "I hope this "Spike" can help our son."

They were parents of only a singular child, a colt. They had tried many times, but either the king's seed never took, or the queen lost the foal during the pregnancy, often becoming very sick afterwards. Whether it was from the complications or her grief, nopony knew, but the king would comfort her as best he could without sobbing on her shoulder. It had grown harder every time they had tried, until at last she made it all the way through a pregnancy and gave birth to a healthy colt. With that, they ceased to try any more, not sure if they could endure the heartache of more failures. That, and little Mehmed needed his mother: it would not have done well for him if she had died in childbirth or become sick from losing another foal when he was still just a little colt.

"I am sure he can, dear," the queen replied, knowing their hopes rested on their only colt. "Who knows? Maybe Spike and Mehmed will become good friends. He needs to meet someone his own age, one who can give him the help he needs." Their country was very strict on what class could marry what class: not because of prejudice, but simply because of the facts of life. A labor pony, working out in the salt mines, could never bring in enough money to support a family if he married a merchant's daughter. The other way was just as true: the lower class was often not very healthy, and deaths from childbirth complications were all-too-common. To put the future of a rich family's continued existence on a pony whose health was never well was something almost no pony was willing to risk. The royal family was no different: only royals or those of the very upper echelons of society could marry into the throne, and every ruler had to be careful: the ranks were full of vipers just waiting for a slice of that political power pie.

The carriage stopped at the entrance to the harbor, with the royal couple stepping out into the bright sunlight. There were no clouds, but thankfully the smell of the sea pervaded the area. Gulls called as they flew between ships and the sparse trees along the shoreline not developed into the harbor. Here and there, workers continued repairing docks from the harsh elements, whether it was replacing wooden beams infested by imported termites, or repainting the lighthouse after the salty air had corroded away all of the outer finish.

"That must be them," the king said, pointing out towards a ship approaching the harbor. Several others were alongside it, almost as if helping it move along. The ropes connecting them only confirmed this observation, and when it drew nearer, the queen gasped softly.

The ship looked like it had traveled through Tartarus, rammed a demonic creature in the face with its bow and had barely managed to escape the ensuing chaos. Holes littered the sides, with scorch marks everywhere from exploding gunpowder and cannonballs. The mainmast was barely standing, the number of holes in it giving it the look of Swiss cheese. The front of the ship had a large chunk missing as well, and the sails were tattered and riddled with long tears. Water seeped out of many holes after small waves would crest right into the exposed hull: the sailors were obviously running the pumps as best they could. The ship itself would likely take weeks, or perhaps even months to repair in dry-dock, given its dilapidated state.

As soon as it docked, several very injured-looking zebras began throwing ropes to the others down at the docks, securing the ship in place. Many had bandages covering large parts of their bodies, with some having half their heads wrapped in the dried-brown cloths. Over the damage railing, a ramp was extended until it reached the dock. Immediately, two shapes rushed down and threw themselves on the ground, kissing it.

"I never want to go on another ship," Maria said as she and Asalah rose to their hooves. Spike, Chrysalis and Trixie followed behind, Chrysalis being supported by Spike. Even after three days of rest, she had yet to regain all of her strength from that storm spell she had used. Luckily, she had enough strength to cast her Meia guise once more: the chance of the royals reporting her "new" appearance to Celestia was too great a risk.

"We will have to when we go from the Nippon Shogunate to India, and then from India back to Equestria," Spike said. "Though the chances of encountering pirates out there is even less than when I crossed the Barnlantic: countries out there, from what I hear, don't tolerate that kind of enterprise."

"Well, it'll be too soon for me," Asalah said, falling into step behind them. All five of them stopped when a group of royal guards approached, arms at the ready.

"State your business," the clearly-marked captain said, his voice firm.

"Uh... Spike Dragul, emissary of Equestria, here to meet the royal heads of Saddle Arabia," Spike said, hoping he remembered everything right. It wouldn't do him any good to be imprisoned in another country for forgetting to simply say why he was there.

"It is all right, captain," the king said, he and his wife approaching the captain from behind. "He speaks the truth: Celestia informed us of his arrival."

"My apologies," the captain said, bowing before Spike and his wives. "I was not sure of your identity."

"It is quite all right," Spike said, waving him off. He turned to the royal couple, noticing how much older they looked since he saw them last. It had been many years since they visited Equestria, back when he was still a very young dragon. "Your highnesses," he said.

"Spike Dragul," they replied, each bowing gracefully. "You humble us with your presence. Come: we have much to discuss."

Following the couple back to their massive carriage, Spike helped his wives get in after the monarchs, being the last to enter the spacious interior. A guard shut the door behind him and the carriage lurched forward slightly, turning around in order to go back up to the castle.

"Mr. Dragul, since you will be staying with us, might I suggest you meet someone?" the queen asked.

"Who?" Spike asked.

"Our son, Mehmed," the king replied. "He is about your age, and could use some help: specifically, help I believe you could provide for him."

"What help would that be?" Spike asked, wondering why a prince needed his help. He was a prince: like Blueblood, everything must have been handed to him on a silver platter from day one, right?

"He is to be married soon, but cannot choose a bride," the queen said. "Seeing as you have four wives, it occurred to us you would be the best one to teach him the proper way to, how do they say, make a move?"

Spike internally face-palmed, knowing this was likely going to bite him in the ass. "Well, sure: I guess I could help him," he said, knowing full well he had never "made the move" on any of his wives. Either they had made a move on him or had been betrothed to him, like Chrysalis and Asalah: or, in Maria's case, had ingeniously manipulated him into asking them to marry him. Trixie had been pregnant: two parents short of a shotgun wedding right there.

They were mostly silent for the rest of the carriage ride, the gentle rocking of the carriage mimicking Spike's internal thoughts.

He was married to four mares, three of whom were pregnant. They loved him dearly, for their own reasons and because he was, according to them, a sex god in bed. That was just secondary, of course.

Now, in a land he had never visited, with cultural norms he did not understand, he was supposed to help the prince, the heir to the country's crown, pick the mare he wanted to be his queen. From what the queen had said, the prince could not choose. How on Earth could he not? Surely dozens of mares were practically throwing themselves at his hooves, each just waiting for the chance to become queen of an entire country. It would bring the greatest boost to one's prestige, the highest of honors: they would be forever adored by their families, and their descendants would be rulers of the country. Even their relatives could be elected to positions of power!

All in all, a very lucrative opportunity for any family with an ambitious enough daughter, or set of parents. Spike now knew how it would have been like for him should he choose wives entirely from Equestria: he would have been swarmed wherever he went. It would have been worse during the main phase of the mare heat cycle, when every mare within dozens of kilometers would have been descending upon him like a tsunami of horny, hormonal mare flesh.

"Oh boy," he muttered. How was he going to help Mehmed separate the good from the bad? The pure from the corrupt: the manipulative from the innocent? He felt like a salespony trying to pick out the best cows for a dairy herd...

Wait a minute... Pick... Herd...

He had an idea, but as any good husband should he would have to run it by his wives.

That was easy enough: as soon as they all arrived at the palace, they were whisked away to their suites, positioned high in a tower so they could look out over the city, the sea, and the desert hills. As soon as everypony (and Spike) had changed into new clothes, Spike had sat them all down to discuss his plan. Chrysalis was barely conscious after the walk up the stairs, so she simply lay down on the massive bed they would all sleep in whilst the others listened to him.

"You're going to what now?" Trixie had asked, sounding nonplussed after Spike had finished telling his plan.

"You know exactly what I said," Spike replied, noticing how Chrysalis was now asleep. Sometimes he even had to feed her like a baby in the morning: not that she minded terribly. Any excuse to cuddle up to his chest must have been good enough for her.

"I don't know, Spike: doesn't that seem a bit... foolhardy?" Asalah asked. "you are dealing with many noblemares who would give up their hooves to be queen. Plus, they have connections: you could be putting the prince and yourself in terrible danger."

"I'm not sure it's a bad plan, Asalah," Maria replied as she continued to gently stroke the snoring Chrysalis's mane. "You have to admit, it is pretty ingenious, when you think of it."

"Yes, I agree to that aspect, but the way in which it is going to be executed..." Asalah said, trailing off. Trixie, on the other hand, looked downright displeased.

"This had better work in your favor, Spike," she said, softly patting her swollen stomach. "This is risky, especially for you: do remember what happened last time you slept in a palace where you did not know the cultural norms?"

"But that worked out very well in the end," Spike said quickly as Asalah quickly glanced at Trixie in surprise. The blue unicorn sent her an apologetic look immediately: she hadn't meant it like that. "Besides, I would not be the focus: I just have to... weed out those who have ulterior motives."

"Well, be careful, should they shift their focus from Mehmed to you, husband," Maria said softly.

"I will," Spike replied softly. "I will." With that, they all lay down on the bed, content to just rest alongside one another.

An hour later, Spike found himself standing in the throne room with the king and queen, waiting for the prince of Saddle Arabia to return from a tutoring session in the local astronomy tower.

"Tell me, your highnesses," Spike said as they waited. "How long has the public known of the prince's requirement for marriage?"

"The public?" the king repeated. "Why would they know?"

"So it is only those with royal relatives or those with relatives in the upper class?" Spike asked, glad the king's response only confirmed what he had hoped: only those of nobility or the wealthy knew.

"Yes," the queen said. "There are many suitable brides in the upper echelons of our society: some are daughters of very successful merchants, others generals and some of local sultans from neighboring countries."

"How many are available?" the dragon asked.

"Oh, around a dozen or so, taking into account some of the others have been betrothed while Mehmed procrastinated in making his choice," the king said, exasperation filtering through his voice. "It's like he doesn't even want to be married."

"He's still young, my king," the queen said softly.

"I was younger than he was when we were betrothed," the king said, a tone of irritation now filling his voice. "As were you, and everything turned out fine for us: more or less."

"That was different: it was a time of necessity," the queen said, as if Spike wasn't even there. "Mehmed has no real urgency in his life like we did: to him, it's just too soon for marriage."

"Well, I'd like to know our royal line is secure before I pass on," the king replied. "Besides, I want grandfoals."

"As do I: as do I," the queen said. Spike was growing rather uncomfortable: this talk of grandfoals was already bringing up in his mind the eventual meeting of his wives with his friends and family, along with meeting Chrysalis's entire hive and Trixie's parents. How would they react to the news their daughter got knocked up outside of a marriage?

There was the banging of the large doors that lead to the room, snapping Spike out of his reverie. He saw them open, and three ponies strode in: two guards, and a third pony he did not know. This third pony had to be Mehmed: the resemblance to the kind and queen was too similar to be just chance.

He was not a terribly tall pony: taller than most, as were both of his parents, yet shorter than Spike by more than a few inches. He was a rather handsome colt, with strong facial features and quick, green eyes. His mane, long and flowing, was similar to those utterly ridiculous-looking stallions on the cover of every romance novel in existence. He was built similar to a colt who spent much of his time studying and practicing the ways of his kingdom: skinny, and yet not terribly so. He undoubtedly had muscles underneath all that, though Spike knew his wives would quickly point out they couldn't hold a candle to the dragon's own.

"Son," the king and queen said, dipping their heads as the prince bowed before both thrones.

"Father; mother," Mehmed replied, looking at each of his parents when he addressed them. "I believe I was summoned?"

"Yes, you were," the king said. "Son, it has come to our attention that you have yet to choose the mare who will be your queen."

The prince made no movement, but Spike could see he internally sighed: he had become a master of it himself, so it was easy enough to tell when somepony else did it. "I cannot decide as easily as you did, father," the prince said. "All but one of your choices would have poisoned you the moment they bore your foal. Their fathers would have made sure of it, so as to grab power for themselves."

The king sighed, as did the queen: maybe they shouldn't have told him of their country's instability in the days leading up to his conception. His own father had died, and some worm of an advisor had tried to make a move on the prince's mother, vying for power within the country. It had been nasty, but the prince-turned-king had managed to succeed in his endeavors, and now his kingdom was still reaping the benefits of his daring decisions, even after all these years. "That does not excuse you from your royal duty," the queen said softly. "Mehmed, as your queen, but more importantly, as your mother, I am concerned for you. You cannot just go through life without having to make tough decisions. Sometimes you must take charge of a situation, and act accordingly. You are a prince, and as much as it pains me to say it, you must start acting like one."

"That is why we would like to introduce you to somepony," the king added, sounding like he did not want to be left out. "Or somedragon, in this case. This is Spike Dragul, royalty from the land of Equestria, and our personal guest for the next few weeks. He is also a personal acquaintance of Princesses Celestia and Luna, so I do not need to remind you of how important it is you do nothing to make him upset." Wow, heavy-handed warning much?

Mehmed turned for the first time to Spike, his eyebrows nearly shooting into his mane: he had obviously not even noticed the dragon as he walked in. It was likely nopony in the entire kingdom had seen a dragon before: they were not that secluded, but dragons did not like deserts that much. It was harder to find jewels and such for hoards in their later years, and the sand always got in their scales: Spike could already start to feel his beginning to itch ever so slightly.

"He has volunteered to help you with your... problem," the king continued, picking up where the queen had left off. "He has much experience in that arena of one's life: he has four wives, after all."

Spike felt like he wanted to sink into the floor like a stone in a lake. Not only had the old king "conveniently" skipped over the fact that the queen and himself had asked Spike to do this for them, but he said the poor dragon was experienced in the realm of choosing a wife. One wife had been pregnant before marriage, another maneuvered him into it, yet another was a completely different pony than he thought they had been, and the other had been married to him after he got crazy drunk. So yeah, he was _totally _the right pony- er, dragon, to discuss marriage. At least Mehmed was close to his age: perhaps it wouldn't be as awkward then.

"H-hello," the prince said, his eyes widening as he took in Spike's appearance: he had obviously never seen a dragon before. It was probably the wings and the tail: muscular tails were not something a pony had, and the large leathery wings were nothing like the soft, fluffy feathers of a pegasus.

Well, Spike would just have to make the best of it. "Hello to you as well," the dragon said, bowing slightly before the prince. "You are Mehmed, I presume?" He already knew, but these dang formalities he suddenly remembered: it wouldn't do good for his reputation if everypony saw him as brusque.

"That I am," the prince replied, straightening at the mention of his name.

"Well, I am sure the two of you will have much to discuss," the king said rather suddenly. "You may leave us."

"Yes, father," Mehmed said, with Spike giving a short bow. They left immediately, the guards closing the doors to the throne room behind them.

"I am sorry they put you up to this," Mehmed said almost immediately after they had rounded a corner.

"What?" Spike asked, not sure if he had heard that correctly.

"My parents: for doing this," the prince repeated. "Making you my... *sigh* marriage tutor."

Well, Spike had never heard phrased quite that way before. "Well, they only partly put me up to it, to be honest," Spike said in return as they stopped by a golden arch. "I did somewhat volunteer: this is a responsibility I'm not yet sure you realize is vital to the future of your kingdom, and you as well."

"I know of it's importance: trust me, I know," Mehmed said, leaning back against the pillar and closing his eyes. "The only trouble is, or at least one of the many troubles is, I can't just pick some mare for her looks or connections, as my parents seem to think I should. I want..."

"Yes?" Spike asked, having a feeling he knew exactly where this was headed. In fact, now that he thought about it, Mehmed reminded him a bit of himself a few months back, before he had gotten on the train leaving Canterlot and his whole life had changed. For the better, to be sure: that was evident enough.

"I want a mare I can fall in love with, and one who in return will fall in love with me, and just me," Mehmed said. "I don't want her to love me for my power, or for the prestige it will bring, or for the securing of her family's future. I want somepony special, you know?"

"All too well, Mehmed," Spike said, leaning back against the opposite pillar. "Tell you what: I'm not the best at this, but I do believe I have a solution to your problem." Well, it had been a long time coming, but he knew now was the time to spring his "idea' on the prince.

"You do?" Mehmed asked, arching an eyebrow. "You must be a very quick judge of a situation, Sir Spike: not many creatures can attest to being able to come up with a solution so quickly after meeting somepony."

"Yes, but it's not going to be easy, or quick, for that matter," the dragon said. "Nothing worth doing is ever quick or easy: of this, I am confident to say, I am more of an expert than marriage proposals. This task might take me the entire time I'm here, but I'll be damned if I'm not going to be of any help. I said I would help you, and by Celestia, I will try. So, I have to ask you this: are you willing to do what I say? This will be hard, long, and likely full of setbacks and mistakes. But life is, and if you are going to get on with your life and find the happiness you want, I say again: will you try to do as I say?"

Mehmed was silent for a few moments: understandable, as Spike knew this was a lot to so suddenly lay on the colt's shoulders. "Yes: yes I am," he said, holding out his hand. "If it means finding the mare of my dreams and fulfilling both my parent's wishes, and the needs of my future kingdom, then so be it."

"Excellent," Spike replied, shaking the stallion's hand. He had a feeling he was going to like this stallion. "So: let's get started, shall we?"


	33. Heartbreaker, Matchmaker

Chapter Thirty Three

Heartbreaker, Matchmaker

It was early the next morning that Spike rose from his bed, managing to slip out from underneath the weight of all his wives. How he managed to do this was beyond his knowledge: perhaps he had finally mastered some unknown skill? Getting dressed, he slowly made his way down the winding steps, not wanting to make a spectacle of himself flying on the morning breeze. He had no idea how the sleep guards on duty would react, so he decided it would be best to just play it safe.

When he arrived in the throne room, he found the king and queen talking with a pair of the royal guards. The queen noticed the dragon and waved him over, the king dismissing the two guards.

"Ah, Spike: good morning," the queen said as they all bowed before one another. "I trust you had a good night's sleep?"

"Very much so," Spike said, truthfully. "After being on that ship, I feel it is safe to say my wives and I would prefer to sleep on dry land." He hadn't minded the Crowhop, but a ship falling apart around him was not an experience Spike wanted to relive any time soon.

"Well, that is good to hear," the king said as another door opened. "Tell us: how is everything going with Mehmed?"

Spike blinked in surprise: they sure wanted their son to marry. "Very well: the plan is in motion," he said.

"Plan? What plan?" the queen asked.

"I am afraid I can't tell you that," Spike said mysteriously. "It is between Mehmed and me, told in confidence. I know you two are anxious, but you'll have to wait. I ask for your patience in this: things like this cannot just be done within a few days' time."

"Well, if you insist on privacy," the king said, sounding a bit apprehensive. "We will respect your wishes. But, I must ask you one thing: can you assure us you can help Mehmed find a mare to be his queen?"

"Your highness, by the time I leave this city, I can guarantee I will have not only found the perfect mare for Mehmed, but I will also have convinced him to ask for her hand in marriage," Spike said with a confident smile.

"You will?" the queen asked, arching her eyebrows in surprise.

"Most definitely, though it will not happen overnight," Spike said. "I'll show him the ropes, give him a chance to do things his way, and help him along. I'll be his wingman."

"A wingwhat?" the king asked.

"Wingman: sort of like a friend who helps another friend get "lucky", though in this case I'd be helping him find a suitable wife and not just some piece of tail," Spike said. "Wingman is a pegasus term, in case you didn't know."

"Ah," the queen said, suddenly unsure if Spike was the right one to teach her darling little Mehmed the ways of the social side of life. "Well... best of luck to you: both of you."

"Believe me, Mehmed will have all the luck he'll need," Spike said, bowing again. "I'll begin his "tutoring" right away, your highnesses." With that, he left the room, the two monarchs looking at each other.

"I like him," the king said with a smile.

"I do as well, but I'm worried he'll lead Mehmed down a strange path to find his wife," the queen replied.

"Please, my wife: what is the worst that could happen?" the king asked. He didn't show it, but the king sort of did know the worst that could happen.

Several hours later, in the only public place where drinking was allowed, Spike and Mehmed strode in through the front door, both disguised in high-quality but feature-blurring clothing. The building itself was more of a large, open courtyard than a building, but the lattice-work roofing at least kept some of it cooler under the intense heat. This place was also only available to the richest ponies in the city, so there were relatively few stallions there. However, the daughters and sisters of the wealthy and powerful pervaded the area like a school of fish, and though Spike had rings on to show he was married, he had already been approached three times by rich young mares by the time he and Mehmed reached a table in a far corner. Unlike when in public, these mares were very talkative: it seemed a gender did not change overall, no matter what the base culture.

"Do we really have to do this?" Mehmed whispered under his concealing robes as they sat down into the seats carved into the very walls of the place.

"Yes: think of it as picking out the best without them knowing," Spike whispered back. "This way, you'll be able to see them for who they are: mares act their most natural around other mares, not possible husbands-to-be."

"I think I see what you are getting at, my friend," Mehmed said as they were served a large bowl of fruit. "I need to know what they are truly like, and not what they would want me to see. They would put up a facade, an act, to hide their true natures from me. "

"Exactly," Spike replied as he munched on an apple. He spit out the seeds and stored them for later: Applejack would no doubt want to know what kind these were. "Shall we get started?"

It wasn't three minutes later that a mare walked over and sat across from them, silent as she stared at the both of them.

"Hello," Mehmed said, trying to start a conversation.

"Greetings: I am Salai," the mare said, rather forcefully. "I have not seen you here before: you are new, yes?"

"Uh, I... I guess," Mehmed replied, somewhat cowed before the mare in front of him. Spike wanted to groan: he was coming off as weak, bashful: while it was not a bad thing, he couldn't appear so all of the time.

"Since you are new, would you like me to show you around?" the mare asked, her request not exactly seeming to be a question.

"Uh... sure," Mehmed said, looking to Spike for help.

The dragon merely shrugged and whispered to him. "Go for it: if she's not the one, then maybe she'll introduce you to somepony better."

"But I don't know anything about conversing with them!" Mehmed whispered back as the mare rose to her hooves.

"Just go with the flow and talk about things you all like," Spike whispered as Mehmed's hand was grabbed by Salai, who proceeded to nearly yank him out of his chair.

"But-," Mehmed said, his words dying in his throat as Salai led him away. Spike gave him a discreet thumbs-up, and went back to eating some fruit.

A few minutes later, a figure walked into the joint and cautiously walked around, their hooves barely making a noise as they moved around. Soon enough, they went over and sat down in Mehmed's seat, not saying a word: they didn't even look at Spike.

"Hello," Spike said, offering his hand in greeting. "The name's... Spike." He decided the truth would be easier, as none of the city really knew who he was or why he was here. If they did, then every mare in the city, and likely the surrounding countryside, would descend upon, hoping to catch his eye and be wed to him. He already met the "quota" for his herd, but maybe, someday, a few more could join?

"H-h-hello," a female voice said, one that sounded awfully familiar...

"Fluttershy?" Spike asked, his brain nearly exploding. Oh no, Fluttershy was here! And if she was here, then the others were, and Celestia could be, and they would find out about Meia really being Chrysalis, and-

"Who?" the voice asked, lowering the veil to show a decidedly not-pegasus face: she was an Arabian pony. "Who is this "Fluttershy" of which you speak?"

"Oh, sorry: your voice reminded of a friend's," Spike said, internally sighing in relief. "I'm guessing your name is not Fluttershy, then?"

"Correct: my name is Sheba," the pony said, her soft and very quiet voice barely registering above the background noise of the bar. "How... how did you find where I sit?"

"Where you sit?" Spike repeated. "You come here by yourself all the time?"

"Y-yes, always alone though," she replied, looking around. "The others... I don't know any of them."

"Why? You're obviously wealthy enough, or related to a pony wealthy enough, to get in this place," Spike said.

"I just... I'm just not good around crowds," Sheba said, even more softly than before. "It's... it's hard to start a conversation with somepony sometimes: you're the f-first I've talked to since I've been here."

"Ever?" Spike asked, raising an eyebrow. "I find that hard to believe."

"Ever," Sheba confirmed. "I'm... I'm not a very sociable pony. Others are intimidated..."

"By you?" Spike asked, one of his eyebrows nearly disappearing behind his head, so high he arched it. "I hope you won't take this the wrong way, but... you're not intimidating in the slightest."

"Oh, thank you," she said, blushing slightly. "No, no, I'm not the pony who is intimidating. It's... it's my father everypony else is afraid of."

"Why is that?" the dragon asked as Mehmed was dragged past him to meet another group of mares. The poor prince shot him a silent look of pleading agony, but Salai's grip was far too strong for him to escape.

"He... well, he is intimidating: anypony who has met him would likely agree with me," Sheba said quietly as she glanced at Mehmed. "Is that a friend of yours?"

"Yeah," Spike said as he watched the disguised prince disappear into a cluster of strangers.

"He's... attractive," the mare said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"So I've been told," Spike replied, filing away her comment for later. "So, your father: what's his name?"

"He is Husam: Husam El-Hashim," Sheba said.

"What is his occupation?" the dragon asked as he munched on another fruit. The stallion had to be rich, to allow his daughter to enter a place like this. A big pony kept looking over at her from the corner: he had no idea who he was, but Spike knew the stallion was strong.

"He was a general in the king's army: the highest ranked in several decades," Sheba said as she gently bit into a fruit. "I'm surprised you didn't know what he did: he is rather famous for his past deeds. He retired many years ago due to an arrow wound from a bandit in his leg: he still has the scars to show for it."

"I'm not from around here," Spike said simply. "I wouldn't really know anything about this place, or much more about the ponies who live here."

"You're not from around here? But... but only the richest and most powerful of ponies are allowed into this club," Sheba said, disbelief filtering through to her voice. "How in the world did you get in here, then?"

"I came with him," Spike said, pointing to a bedraggled-looking figure who exited a pack of mares and stumbled his way over to the table.

"Spike, you must help me," Mehmed said in a whisper. "I think... I think one might be onto us."

"Which one?" Spike asked, rising to his feet as Sheba did the same, only rising to her hooves instead.

"That Salai: she seemed suspicious when I said I didn't come here often, and this disguise is starting to fall apart," the somewhat-disguised prince gasped, eagerly taking an offered fruit from Sheba. "Thank you."

"You are most welcome, sir," Sheba replied. Her eyes roamed him, glad she had a reasonable excuse to have cut her conversation with Spike short. She didn't dislike him or anything, but he was even more of a stranger to her than those living in the city.

"Anyway," the prince continued after swallowing a bite of the juicy fruit. "We must leave now: I know she will come to the conclusion soon enough: she is a sharp one."

"Is she the _right _one?" Spike asked as they left the table, hearing some voices rise in volume behind them.

"No, no, no: she is far too dominating, too corrosive of a personality for one such as myself," Mehmed said, not noticing as Sheba followed them. "She... she scares me, my dragon friend."

"Wait... you're a dragon?" Sheba whispered with wide eyes just as they reached the door. Apparently it had been loud enough for others to hear, as many heads turned in their direction.

"Uh oh," Spike said as several mares rose from their seats, hungry looks filtering through their veils. "We must go:_now._"

With a flick of his concealed tail, Spike sent a table tipping over behind them, blocking the entrance to the club just as several mares rushed the three of them. Stopping them in their tracks, the table was there long enough for the three of them to make good their escape, though they were followed by that large stallion that could only be Sheba's bodyguard.

"I doubt we'll be going back there any time soon," Spike said as they reached their destination: a fountain in the middle of several street intersections.

"I must bid you farewell, as my father will no doubt be expecting me home soon," Sheba said, shaking Spike's hand. She turned to shake Mehmed's, who had stopped to look at her, and I mean really look at her. She noticed. "Is... is something wrong, sir?"

"Uh, I... I don't..." the prince tried to say, his tongue suddenly tied in knots. Where had this come from? Why did he suddenly feel so awkward? "Would... can I see you again?"

"Um..." Sheba responded, suddenly at a loss for words as well. She found herself getting lost in the stallion's eyes...

Spike saw how both of them were reacting and nearly laughed out loud. Of course! Fate was too kind to him: he had obviously been introduced to the future Mrs. Mehmed, but he hadn't seen it! It had just been a nice conversation, he thought, but in reality, fate had sent him the very pony he had been trying to help Mehmed find.

"Say yes," Spike whispered to Sheba, since Mehmed seemed to be off in a world of his own making. This startled the mare out of her reverie, causing her silent bodyguard to twitch.

"Um... yes, sir: I too would like to see you again," she finished, her voice an octave below a whisper.

"That's... great," Mehmed said, her response seeming to snap him out of his own reverie. "That would be... great. Where... where would we... meet?"

"What about... here?" Sheba asked, looking at the fountain, though judging from the motion, she didn't want to look away from Mehmed.

"S-sure," the prince replied, finally letting her hand go free from the handshake. "H-how about... noon t-tomorrow?"

"That sounds... splendid," Sheba said, bowing slightly before him. Then, with a small but noticeable spring in her hoof-step, she walked off, glancing back over her shoulder to look at Mehmed as her bodyguard caught up with her.

"She's... she's..." Mehmed said to Spike, who had walked up beside the prince. "She's... perfect."

"I was about to say the same thing, your highness," Spike said with a grin. "Come on: I'll tell you all about her when we get-,"

"THERE HE IS!" a voice shrieked, causing the duo to look around. The mares from the club had not been so easily dissuaded with a table blocking the entrance.

"Run!" Spike whispered to Mehmed, who wasted no time in taking off down the street. Spike ran after him, the both of them running like they stole something. The herd of mares behind them thundered like a mighty flood, the sounds of their hoofbeats never getting farther away.

Spike saw a problem with their plan: dead ahead was the end of the road. Worse yet, due to the hilly nature of the city, it ran into a sheer cliffside of buildings.

Mehmed saw this. "What do we do?!" he shouted as they approached.

"Jump!" Spike answered back.

"Jump?! Are you insane?!" the prince shouted back. The drop-off grew closer, and closer, and closer...

"Just trust me!" Spike shouted. The prince was only a few steps ahead of him, but it seemed like minutes before he reached the ledge, the prince already airborne.

With a tearing noise, Spike's great wings unfurled themselves from the clothes he wore, tearing it apart from the waist up, exposing his muscular body. Squeals of glee sounded from the herd behind him as he flapped, gaining on the falling (and screaming like a little filly) prince, catching him under the armpits with his hands.

"See? I said you could trust me," Spike said calmly as his wings flapped, carrying them both aloft without any difficulty. "Also, you can stop screaming now."

The prince stopped screaming as they flew off, leaving behind the bemoaning herd of mares behind. The castle came into view, and the stunned guards did nothing as Spike landed the both of them near the entrance, sending three servants fleeing into the nearby rose bushes.

Their screams of pain were a comical thing to hear, when combined with them running out and tearing at their clothes.

Later...

"Chased out of a bar by a herd of mares? Running through the streets like a pair of hooligans? Leaping to certain doom to escape them?" the king and queen said to Mehmed, who meekly shuffled his hooves before them in the throne room. Spike wasn't there: he had said something about "attending to his wive's needs" and had disappeared like jewelry at a thief convention.

"Yes?" he said.

"Mehmed, sometimes I don't know how you are even alive, after all the shenanigans you've pulled," the king said.

"Do you want to send us to an early grave from worry?" the queen asked, burying her face in her hands in exasperation. As soon as she did this, the king gave his son a discreet wink and two thumbs up: it reminded him of his exploits as a young colt, before the responsibilities of running a kingdom took over.

"But, mother, father, I have good news too," the prince said as his father's stoic face returned as the queen looked up.

"You do?" the king asked, his voice sounding skeptical to maintain the illusion he was still upset with his son, instead of just somewhat annoyed.

"Yes," Mehmed said. "For you see, at the bar, Spike and I met somepony-,"

"You did?" the queen asked, bolting upright from her somewhat slouched position on the throne.

"Yes," Mehmed continued. "She's beautiful, and though I don't know much about her besides that, I-,"

"Asked her to marry you?" the queen said, nearly squealing like a school filly upon learning the cutest colt in class had a crush on her. Oh, the thought of grandfoals, and their own colt finally becoming solidified in his position to take over the kingdom in their stead filled her with great joy.

"N-n-no," Mehmed said, causing his parent's looks of hope and joy to come crashing down like an unstable tower of cheese. "I asked to meet her again tomorrow."

"Oh," the king said. "Well, I suppose if you ask her there..."

"No I won't, father," Mehmed said. "I want to ask her when the time is right: after I've gotten to know her and her family."

"That'll take forever!" the queen said in a royal whiny voice.

"You told me I must start making decision for myself, and starting now, this is one of them," the prince said, crossing his arms and looking up at his parents. "If you cannot accept that, then that is fine with me."

The king and queen sighed: why now, of all the decisions he had to make, did he have to be so... decisive about this one. "Fine, my son," the king said. "We will support you in this endeavor. Though, please tell me one thing: what is her name?"

"Spike told me: Sheba. Her name is Sheba El-Hashim."

At this, both the king and the queen looked at each other, their faces ablaze with shock. This was not necessarily a bad thing, but...

"This is not good," the king whispered to the queen.

Meanwhile...

"Maria, must you always do that?" Spike asked as his first wife and mother of what would be either his second or third foal bounced on him. "You know this isn't a race, right?"

"I'm sorry, I can't help it," Maria said as she rode him, her slightly swollen belly smacking lightly against his toned abs as she rode him. "You have no idea how good this is." Asalah, Trixie and Chrysalis were all taking a nap, having gladly gorged themselves on sweets and other goodies while Spike was out with Mehmed. He had returned to find Maria awake, looking for him, and... horny.

"I think I do," Spike said, his hands reaching up and trapping her own at her sides. She squealed as he flipped her over onto her back, her swollen breasts flinging up to smack her in the chin. They too were now swollen with milk, so that when Spike reached down and suckeld one, the sweet mixture left the tender nipple and entered his mouth.

"That's so good," they said at the same time, Maria reveling in the experience and Spike drinking the sweet substance.

"Maria?" Spike asked through his suckling mouth, the words coming out as a mumble.

"Hm? Maria replied, loving the feeling of him so deep in her.

"I'm going to cum somewhere else," he said, pulling himself out of her tender marehood. They had agreed he could not go as deep as he used to, before she was with foal: there was no telling what his mighty sword could do if it were sheathed too far into her... scabbard.

"But... but where?" Maria asked, looking down over her tender breasts and slightly bulging belly to see Spike's dragonhood withdraw itself from her. She moaned quietly, an ache suddenly upon her.

"Here," Spike said, pushing the tip against the entrance to her virgin asshole.

"What?" Maria said, nearly shrieking in surprise. "But.. but.. that's an exit only!"

"No, it's the third hole on you at your disposal," Spike said softly, continuing to milk her with his mouth as he prodded against her unplundered cave.

"No, Spike... I... you can't," she said, her words starting to fail her as more and more milk left her breasts, as Spike readily switched between them. "That's... that's... that's not befitting of a noblemare such as... as myself?"

"Oh really?" Spike asked, raising an eyebrow and looking up at her from his suckling position. "Then why are you so wet at the thought?"

That much was true: her marehood had begun to leak even more copiously than when they were mating, the mere thought of so large an object entering a (in her mind) taboo pleasure zone making her body react rather pleasantly towards the idea.

"But... but will it even fit?" Maria asked as the mighty mushroom cap that was the tip of Spike's dick probed against her, pushing against her virgin backside.

"I should think so," Spike said in a nonchalant manner.

"No, it... it won't."

"Yes it will: you worry too much."

"No, Spike, I'm serious, it won't fit: it simply, positively... CAN'T!" Maria shouted out as Spike plunged the first few inches of it into her, who smiled into her breasts as it made a popping sound.

"Told you," he said, pushing slightly more in, earning another squeal from her as he body shuddered and bucked underneath his.

"You... you got lucky it did," Maria said, laughing weakly as her words were interspaced by moans. They continued to grind against one another, Spike plunging as far as he dare go into her: he didn't want o break her, after all.

Soon, or too soon in Maria's befuddled mind, they came, her asshole clutching at his throbbing meat as volley after volley of thick, dragon seed spewed forth into her inside. They lay like that, milk leaking from Maria's nipples as Spike raised himself above her.

"That... that was nice," Maria said weakly, moving some of her mane out of her sweaty face.

"Yes," Spike said, starting to pull out. "Yes it wa-,"

"Spike?" Maria asked, looking at his face as he failed to... remove himself from her.

"Uh," Spike said, a dumb looking crossing his features.

"What is it?" the unicorn asked.

"Maria, dear," Spike said weakly, a meek grin forming on his lips. "I... I can't pull out."

"What," the noblemare said; the "what" not even a question. More of a statement, to be honest.

"Yeah..." Spike said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm... I'm kinda... stuck." The look on Maria's face meant she was not happy; not happy at all.

Then, the other three of his wives walked in, still a bit sleepy but obviously awake. Then they looked and saw Spike's giant dragon dick stuck inside Maria's tight asshole.

Oh boy: this was awkward.


	34. Getting to Know You

Chapter Thirty Four

Getting to Know You

Spike was glad to have agreed to chaperone Mehmed on his meeting with Sheba the next day: no chance of any of his wives getting mad at him for "sticking something it shouldn't usually go" or something along those lines: it had been somewhat hard to hear through the shouting and screaming.

He still shuddered at the exact conversation.

_"Pull it out!"_

_"I can't: it's stuck!"_

_"Well try harder! I can't have your dick stuck in my ass for the rest of our time here! How would that even work?"_

_"I can't get out!"_

_"What is this?"_

_"I'm stuck!"_

_"What is my life?"_

_"I'm stuck!"_

_"JUST BUCKING PULL IT OUT ALREADY!"_

_"Fine!"_

_*Pop*_

_"OW THAT HURT!"_

_"NO SHIT MARIA!"_

He shuddered again: luckily, the others had been there to restrain the frenzied mare, or else he might have had to lay down the law with a cock-slap to the face. The blow could have left a bruise!

"Ready?" Mehmed asked, snapping the dragon out of his own little world.

"Yes," Spike said, glad to be thinking of something else. "You go on, I'll watch from a distance. If you run into any trouble, just give me the signal."

"What signal?" the prince asked. The dragon had never said anything about a signal, so what did he mean by it? Was this all some sort of test?

"You know what, never mind: I'll probably know if things get out of hand," the dragon said. "Okay, time for you to meet Sheba."

They walked the rest of the distance between the palace and the fountain, both dressed once more in loose clothing designed to hide their appearance. Spike made sure they steered clear of the bar again: who knew how many mares from yesterday had showed up just to see if they could spot him again?

They rounded a corner once more and found themselves at the converging streets, the fountain in sight: as was Sheba, since Spike didn't know anypony else who looked the same, dressed in the same manner, and had the same bodyguard following her from a distance.

"There she is: go for it," Spike said, noticing how Mehmed had frozen. "What are you waiting for?"

"Her... she... I... I'm not so sure this is a good idea," the prince said in a rush, taking a step back. Either he had realized just how intimidating the bodyguard was to anypony who looked at him, or he was not sure if he was in the right state to talk with Sheba.

Likely the second one, by the sudden increase in his breathing: rapid and shallow. "You can do this," Spike said, giving him a nudge: more like a push, really. "You agreed to meet her here, and prince does not go back on his word. Go on!"

With a bit more force put into it, Spike shoved the prince forward, sending him stumbling a few steps before he caught himself. The prince looked back to give Spike a retort, but a voice interrupted.

"Mehmed," Sheba called, giving him a small wave of greeting. The prince instantly turned around at her voice, all thoughts of giving Spike an earful suddenly erased from his mind. He slowly walked towards her, the sounds of the city around them making it difficult for Spike to hear him move.

When he sat down beside her, Mehmed began to talk with her, his head moving as he nodded to whatever she was talking about. Spike couldn't hear it, though, and he wasn't good at reading lips either. So he leaned against a building and just watched in silence, occasionally sniffing the air or scratching at his chin.

Ten minutes passed, and they just seemed to be talking: so far, so good. Then twenty minutes, and thirty, and forty, and-

"There you are!" a voice said, a pair of hands suddenly grabbing Spike's arm and dragging him away. "We've been looking everywhere for you! Your show starts in ten minutes!"

"What show?" Spike asked, suddenly very confused. "Who are you?" Wow, this pony was strong, to be shoving him with such ease.

"I am your boss! You idiot, don't you remember your mid-afternoon show? The ladies have paid highly for your upcoming performance with the others: do not disappoint them!" The stallion's voice was rather grating and it made Spike flinch slightly.

"What?!" Spike shouted again before he was shoved into a building, losing sight of the prince and his date Sheba. Before the dragon could regain his thoughts, someone threw a few large weapons into his arms: for anypony else they would have been really heavy, but for the dragon, it wasn't much.

"Give these to the others when they are called on stage," a voice said before it disappeared. Everywhere Spike looked, dust and clothes flew about as stallion upon stallion dressed themselves up in some rather... odd clothes. Like suspenders with no shirts on, exposing their abs: what in the name of Tartarus?

"Where did they even get suspenders?" Spike muttered to himself as he was jostled along by countless, sweaty stallions. Okay, even though he was the tallest male in the room, though not by too much, Spike was feeling very uncomfortable. Why were they all dressing like this? Where in the world was he? Why was-

"Ladies, the desert heat beats down on all of us. But here, in the Stud Shack, we can help you beat the heat with our prized selection of tall, cool glasses of water. Please welcome our prized stallions!"

There was a loud applause and many cheers and whistles as Spike, amidst a herd of muscular zebras, earth ponies, several pegasi and even a few unicorns, was forced onto the stage, his arms filled with various tools, weapons, and even... some cinder blocks? He hadn't even noticed someone push those into his arms.

"Please, settle down you desert mares," the same voice called out, booming from what had to be a speech-enhancing spell. "Your thirsts will soon be satisfied enough when we display our finest choices before you. Starting with... The Guards!"

Seven ripped, utterly masculine zebras stepped forward, muscles rippling under the magical lamps as they strode out further onto stage, each one picking a weapon out of Spike's arms and carrying it with practiced ease. Another cheer rose up from the crowd, with several mares in the front row whistling loudly. The zebra stallions smiled and posed with the weapons, flexing their muscles as they showed off their glorious physiques. Spike did everything he could not to look down at the skimpy shorts they wore around their waists.

"Yes, the Guards: these fine gentlecolts are among the best of the king and queen's ensemble of protectors! The best of the best, the brightest, the bravest, the strongest: it is only these select few that earn their chance to serve our royal highnesses within the splendor of the royal palace!"

The voice was getting on Spike's nerves: he continued to glance around, suddenly unsure why he didn't just up and leave. There were many mares here, many looking older than him.

The Guards walked off the stage amidst applause, just in time for the announcer to speak again. "Well, the guards must return to duty, but don't you fret, ladies: there's more to come with... the Sky Patrol!"

The only pegasi in the group strode forward, wings flexing in time with their steps as they too stopped and posed. Due to their more aerodynamic bodies, they were much leaner, with slim waistlines, compact bodies, and to top it off, colt-ish good looks. A few of the mares in the front row seemed to faint away when one winked in their general direction.

"Yes, you lucky mares: the Sky Patrol! Flying down here from the mountains to the south, these fine specimens have been part of our king's royal air force for many years! Look how their bodies glisten!"

Some water fell from the ceiling, splashing onto the stallions. They flicked their manes back and posed some more, the screams of the mares giving Spike a headache as the water dripped slowly from the stallion's bodies. Spike saw a flurry of hands grab the cinderblocks and tools from his arms, leaving him holding nothing. He tried to move, but the pressing of bodies held him fast: he didn't know what to do. He wasn't about to hurt somepony just to get away, and yet this was definitely NOT the place he wanted to be right now.

The pegasi walked off the stage, flicking the remaining droplets off their wings and into the crowd with bemused smirks.

The announcer boomed again as small cries of dismay followed their exit. "Don't worry ladies: they'll return. Now, though, please welcome out... the Laborers!"

Strapping unicorns and earth pony stallions walked out onto stage, their torsos bursting with muscles and they hefted the heavy cinderblocks and work tools. The unicorns hefted blacksmith tools, the soot-stained smocks doing little to hide their robust bodies. The earth ponies held aloft the blocks as though they were mere paperweights, their massive chests and biceps glistening from sweat. The crowd of obviously excited mares roared in approval.

"Yes, the Laborers!" the announcer called again, the voice making Spike flinch in anger. "These fine stallions work out in the hot sun all day, crafting and building the very city we live in! Look at their fine features, those huge, endurance-charged muscles!"

There were screams of glee from several parts of the audience as the stallions posed with their tools and work supplies. Their clothes stretched tight across their torsos surely had many a mare nearly soiling herself with lust at the mere sight of it. Thank Celestia none of them were in heat, or else this place might descend into one massive, lust-fuelled orgy.

"These hunky stallions are available for private shows, ladies!" the announcer said as cries filtered through the audience once again: the earth and unicorn stallions walked off stage. The announcer appeared where they had left, a small unicorn who wore several sets of robes for some odd reason.

"Well, the show is winding down, ladies, and I'm afraid we have no more hunks for you tonight." Soft calls of disappointment filtered through the air. "But do not fret: we will not send you home all hot and bothered. Here, fresh from our line of hopefuls, is a small consolation prize to help you all wind down and not feel so bad about not getting any of this hot produce."

There was a shove, and Spike found himself sprawled on the stage, right next to the hooves of the announcer. Somepony had also had the great idea to throw some extra robes over him, so now he could barely be seen. It must have been enough, as laughs started filtering through the audience.

"Yes ladies, you know that time: time for the new stallion to receive his little breaking in," the announcer said, walking around Spike. "As you know, all young hopefuls are carefully selected, and must be rigorously trained to be completely controlled and obedient, lest they besmirch this facilities' name with lewd and vulgar practices." More jeers at this: it wasn't likely any of the mares would have minded if those stallions did that,

Spike was getting pissed: this unicorn ran a show like this, and yet needed to completely control the stallions to keep them from being "vulgar"?

"That's right, ladies," the announcers said in a condescending tone. "Our new friend here must be shown the ropes." He stomped down next to Spike's head. "Tell us your name, sir."

Spike!" the dragon roared through the robes, only for it to barely come out at all.

"Spike! An interesting name, to be sure," the announcer said, jostling around the mass of jumbled robes like it was a game. "Why don't you stand up like a gentlecolt for these fine ladies? Give them a show!"

More laughs filtered through the audience at this, causing something inside of Spike to tumble out of place. "They want a show?" he murmured to himself as he felt his body flex. "I'll give them a show."

He stopped moving entirely, before slowly standing up, the robes fluttering around him. The announcer bounced back a few steps, his gleeful smile faltering slightly.

"My... he's a bit taller than we thought, isn't he ladies?" the unicorn said, noticing how the jumbled mass of robes now stood a good two heads taller than the biggest stallion he had working for him. The laughter died down a bit, an odd silence gaining strength as every mare there started to take in the sight of the robed figure.

"Why... why don't you flex for us?" the announcer said, his voice sounding a tad frightened.

The towering figure looked down at him, stared for a few seconds and then bent its body and arms into flexing positions.

The robes around the biceps stretched and ripped, the noise sending a gasp through the audience. From the shredded robes falling to the ground, a sight unseen emerged. Biceps, greater in size than the pecs of the earth pony stallion, flexed and moved in time with the figure's pose. They looked like each one contained a cinder block below the odd-textured flesh, and yet they did not move on their own accord: no jiggling of any sort. They were solid, firm, unquestionably tough: the kind of biceps that could be used all day and yet never tire. Triceps followed them underneath, not the same size but something greater than what any of the mares had seen before. The forearms seemed of an unnaturally large size as well, thick to the point of looking like small anvils. The announcer made a small squeak when the figure flexed again, this time exposing most of his legs. Calves, thighs, everything was large and perfectly proportioned. For some reason, the hooves were hidden from view, but the legs made many a mare's own go weak, and they were sitting!

A robed hand tore away the robes around the torso, revealing... oh my, revealing something no mare had thought was even possible. Pectorals formed the upper part of the torso, seemingly stretched tight against the odd-looking pelt. They were massive large enough to crush something between, and yet... seemed to defy and expand the natural laws of masculinity. Below them were a set of abs, abs so glorious any minotaur in the room would have left crying for feeling inadequate. They were glorious, defined, sculpted by whatever gods or goddesses had an affinity for glorious abs. Right alongside them were obliques, obliques so glorious five mares simultaneously came and fainted right in the front row.

The announcer, for once, didn't have anything to say. Who was this Adonis, this epitome of what mares wanted physically out a male? "May... may I have your name again?" he asked, his voice sounding squeaky.

The massive figure reached up with on hand and grabbed onto the remaining robes, tearing them away in one quick motion. "My name is Spike."

The rest of the robes flew off, revealing... a dragon! A massively muscled, incredibly handsome, god-like dragon!

The crowd went absolutely bonkers: a few from fear, but most from outright amazement. Amidst the screams, a figure rose to their hooves. "He is the one from yesterday!" she cried out, causing about half the room to rise to their hooves as well. "Get him!"

Spike merely opened his massive wings and fanned them, sending a wave of wind through the place. Every standing mare was knocked flat onto her ass, and with impudence Spike strode past them, his tail smacking away the hands of any close enough to reach him. Striding out into the sunlight, he turned a corner and shrunk back down, passing under a clothes line as he did. Grabbing some robes, he threw them on and walked back in what he believed to be the direction from whence he had been dragged, a roar of mares sounding behind him. He made no sudden moves, though, as they all rushed behind and past him down the street, searching in vain for the sex symbol they had just been privy to.

Soon enough, Spike found what he was looking for: Mehmed walking away from the fountain, waving back at Sheba. She too waved as her bodyguard escorted her away.

"Have fun?" Spike asked, his blood still pumping from the spectacle he had caused in the *shudder* Stud Shack. Since when did Saddle Arabia even have clubs like that? It seemed too different for this country's tastes: likely a transplant business from Equestria or something.

"Oh, I had the most wonderful time with Sheba," Mehmed said, with a far-off look in his eyes. "She is the most wonderful pony I have met: I cannot believe I didn't meet her sooner."

"Well, you can tell me all about it on the way back," Spike said, snapping his fingers in front of the dreamy prince's eyes.

Later...

"You may leave us," the king said to Mehmed after hearing the prince gush over Sheba again. The prince gave a quick bow and scampered off, a light skip in his gait as he went.

"Spike, please stay," the queen said as the dragon made to move. "There's something you must know." Spike stopped in his tracks and turned back to them: what was it?

"Yes?" he asked.

The king sighed. "Spike, I assume you know of Sheba's last name?"

"Yes," Spike said, scratching his chin. "Sheba El-Hashim."

"And, through this name, I assume you have come to know of her heritage?" the king continued.

"Yes, her father: the general. Hu... Husam: Husam El-Hashim, I believe. Why do you ask?" the dragon queried.

"This is a rather delicate matter, so we would greatly appreciate it if you did not tell Mehmed until the time is right," the queen said.

Okay, now Spike was very confused. "Tell him what?" he asked.

"Long before Mehmed was born, his mother and I were betrothed, as you know," the king began. "What you do not know is the circumstances of the betrothal."

"Go on," Spike said: this sounded interesting.

"I was young, foolish, brash: I was the epitome of a spoiled prince, the kind I am sure you are familiar with."

"Yes, I am," Spike said, Prince Blueblood's face entering his mind.

"Anyway, back then, my father unexpectedly passed away, an advisor tried to worm his way into my father's throne, and his bedroom. My mother, the queen, kept trying to make him go away, but he was insistent and had many supporters who thought his ideas would help revitalize and enrich the kingdom. I knew from the start he was up to no good, so I enlisted the help of a close friend."

"Who?" Spike asked.

"Husam El-Hashim," the king said. "He and I had grown up together, were as close as friends could be: almost like brothers. So, when he went off to join the army, I had him start spreading news that the worm of an advisor would cut spending on the military. Of course, the advisor got word of this when the then-generals asked him about it. He sent them out on several-year expeditions, many dying far from home. Most of the armies still stayed loyal to the crown, and my mother, many of whom owed their lives and positions of power to her just hand. So, though my mother, I had an army backing me, but the advisor was a clever one. He sent out malicious rumors I was planning on using a foreign army to take my throne by force. The populace began to believe it, even though the army knew it to be nothing but smoke."

"Then what happened?" Spike asked.

"The nation's largest banker, Suleiman, said he would side with me if I did but just one thing for him. He was growing old and sick, but the ponies of the lands loved him: he brought them great riches and amazing goods from foreign countries and made much of it available for them at reasonable costs."

"What was this deal?" Spike asked, although he had an inkling he already knew the answer.

"Marry his daughter," the king said, looking over to his queen. She nodded softly, looking down at Spike.

"I was to be the bargaining chip that would help him peacefully oust that wicked advisor from the figurative fortress he had built in the hearts and minds of the populace. But I was with another at the time."

"Who?" Spike asked again.

"Husam El-Hashim: we had grown up together, all three of us," the king said. "Husam had fallen madly in love with her when they were younger, as many colts were wont to do with young mares and growing up did little to dampen his feelings. He had told me he would ask for her hand in marriage in time, something I knew that, had she accepted would have made him the happiest stallion in the world. But I had to do what I had to do, so I told him in confidence what my plan was."

The king grimaced. "It... it turned ugly. He called me a coward, a mare-stealer, a low-life princeling who trotted on the dreams of others: I was lower than scum, a stallion jealous of the love he (thought) he had found. We said some things we should not have and drew swords. All alone, high in the tower in which we slept, we dueled with a ferocity unmatched by the fiercest of beasts: he was more skilled, but his rage made him sloppy. I... I managed to disarm him, and had him at my mercy: so I... I gave him my sword."

"You what?" Spike asked, not sure if he had heard correctly.

"Yes, I gave him my sword. I knew he was angry enough to kill me, but through that anger I saw a stallion willing to die for what he loved: his country. So I gave him my sword and simply said this: '_Either chose her and let this kingdom be split, or be the bigger stallion and swallow your pride._' He then looked at me, then the sword, and after what felt like an hour, he threw it to the ground. He said he would let me have my wife, and my crown, but from that day forth, we were no longer friends. We then parted ways."

"So, you two were then married, and the ponies of the land looked upon you with renewed faith?" Spike guessed.

"Yes," the king with a sigh. "At the cost of my closest friend, I regained my kingdom and had the ponies do what they wanted with that sniveling advisor and his cronies. After that, with the full backing of the army, I removed many of the oppressive laws the worm had put into place through bribery and threats. Prosperity returned to the land, though at a cost I had hoped to avoid: we have not spoken to one another since that night."

"Not once?" Spike asked.

"Not once," the queen said, knowing when her husband didn't want to say any more. "We had hoped this would not happen, but it seemed that fate had other plans for all of our families. We know we cannot hope to part Mehmed from Sheba: we can see he has fallen madly in love with her. It would break him in ways we could not bear to see, should it happen somehow."

"What would you have me do?" Spike asked.

"Keep them together, and mend the bridges that were so long ago broken," the kind said softly. "Perhaps, through their union, I can finally apologize to Husam for what I did. For the friendship I destroyed in order to regain my throne: perhaps our families can once again be at peace with one another."

They dismissed Spike soon after that, and with a heavy heart he went up to his tower, to his waiting wives. As soon as he closed the door behind them, they strode up, looking like they all had something to say to him.

But they stopped in their tracks when they saw his expression, and immediately they followed him to the bed, silent as he stripped off his clothes and crawled under the covers. They joined him, still clothed, silent as they pondered just what his expression could mean.

"Spike? What happened?" Chrysalis asked quietly, more of her strength obviously having returned to her voluptuous body. Her belly too, as was Maria's was starting to swell slightly more than it had been: Spike just hadn't really noticed. He had been very occupied with this whole "Mehmed" ordeal, and now he just... didn't know what to do.

"It's... it's a long story," Spike said softly as all four of his wives cuddled against his warm body.

"We have all night, love," Asalah said softly as she gently stroked his spines along his head.

"Yes, please tell us," Trixie said as one hand rubbed her bigger belly. Maria didn't say anything, the look on Spike's face when she saw him shocking any residual anger about their "sexual entanglement" out of her system.

"Okay, I'll tell: just... keep me company tonight, will you?" Spike asked softly, the tale of Mehmed's family and the conflict it endured still playing through his head like a sad nightmare. "I don't want to be alone right now."

They stayed with him the entire night, long after he fell asleep.


	35. Meeting the Sword

Chapter Thirty Five

Meeting the Sword

Spike arose early the next day, his eyes crusted shut from the few tears he had shed. When he recanted all of what Mehmed's family had endured in his head, he had cried, knowing if things similar to what had happened to them happened to his family, he might break from the pain. He was strong when he needed to be, and he tried to be in every possible way, but there was only so much a dragon could take, and if his wives lost their foals, or even lost foals multiple times, then he'd never recover.

Shaking the depressing thoughts from his head, he rose gently from the bed, slipping past the forms of his sleeping wives. Mehmed had told him today was the day he was going to visit Sheba's home, and Spike knew he had to be there: more for the prince's sake than his own. He bet he could handle the general, but armed with the knowledge of the history between the royal family and said general... Mehmed would need someone to advise him, should a confrontation arise.

Leaving the tower and walking down the stairs, Spike came to a stop, where three familiar-looking guards were standing by a door. He paused, looking them over, an idea forming in his mind.

"Have I seen you before?" he asked.

Two of the guards said nothing, but the third curtly shook his head. "No sir: I don't believe so."

"No, no, I have," Spike said, walking back and forth like a merchant picking out a line of lumber. "Somewhere..."

The pacing was having the desired effect: the guards, in this cool morning breeze, were beginning to sweat beneath their armor. Their stripes were plainly visible, and Spike could tell by the way they held themselves, they were in great shape.

"Stud Shack," Spike said suddenly, causing all three of them to wince. The middle one sighed.

"How did you know?" he asked softly, looking dejectedly at the floor.

"I never forget a face, or three, for that matter," the dragon said. "Tell me, why work there on your off time? Surely this position of honor is more than enough for your lifestyles?"

"Politically, socially, yes: economically, not so much," the middle zebra said. "The pay is not bad, but we try to make as much as possible for our families, and it would too much trouble to ask for a raise. The king has had enough troubles in the past when it came to finances, and so out of duty, we take what we have."

He looked between the other two zebras. "Please don't tell our royal highnesses about the money we make on the side. We could lose our jobs here in the palace."

"I won't say a word, so long as you keep up your end of the bargain," Spike said.

"What bargain?" the zebra on the left asked.

"I saw you at that place: don't tell me you didn't recognize me when I... made my exit?"

The zebras were silent for a few moments. "Spike Dragul... Spike... that was you?!" the third zebra asked, astonishment filtering through his voice.

"The one and same," the dragon said, crossing his arms. "Now, do we have a deal? None of you or your fellow "stripper guards" will inform anypony about what happened there, and I in turn will forget I ever even saw you at that place."

"Oh, thank you sir," the middle zebra said as all three guards gave Spike a bow of thanks. "You have our sincerest gratitude, and do not worry: our lips, and those of our fellow guards, are sealed."

Bidding them farewell, Spike made his way through the palace, eventually stopping at the front doors, where Mehmed was waiting for him.

"Did Sheba say where she wanted you to meet her?" Spike asked after they greeted each other.

"Yes, by the fountain once more," the prince said. "From there, we'd walk back to her house."

"Her home? Did she tell you where that is?" Spike asked as they walked through the entrance to the palace grounds. Once again, they were disguised, though this time, and as per his request, Spike wore robes more like a bodyguard. He even carried a sword, though he knew he'd likely never have to use it: he was a dragon, after all.

"No, but she said her guard would escort us all there," the prince said, a dreamy look in his eyes as he mentioned Sheba. "I'd like to meet her family, if it were possible."

Spike didn't think that was necessarily a wise idea, but it was the prince's choice, and he'd go along with it. However, if things got ugly, he'd have to make sure he didn't get hurt: there was enough bad blood between both of their parent's, Sheba's and Mehmed's, to write a novel on.

So they walked through the streets, dodging merchants, workers, countless officials and untold numbers of the lower class. Well, middle class by other countries' standards, anyway: they were well dressed, reasonably well-fed, and didn't look very gloomy. Scholars rushed from one to another, jabbering excitedly about new alchemic recipes or a new spell designed to make work easier. The clanging of the unicorn blacksmiths sounded all around, the pounding of great hammers and blasts of fiery magic warping and forming steel into varieties of shapes for a variety of functions.

Soon enough, or perhaps too soon, if one were to be a pessimist, Spike found Mehmed and he had arrived at the fountain, where Sheba and her tall guard were waiting for them.

"Oh, Mehmed, it is good to see you again!" she said, rushing up before remembering her manners and bowing slightly before him, as per the customary greeting was in many public places. "Are you ready? Faris shall lead us to my home: my mother should be there."

"What about your father?" the prince asked.

"Oh, he's usually never home: always off inspecting the troops, devising new tactics with his fellow generals, and all that military nonsense." Sheba didn't seem too concerned about inviting the son of her father's friend turned foe into her home, but then again, very few ponies knew of the bad blood between the two families. It wasn't common knowledge, and it had been a blessing to remain that way.

As the two ponies walked along, Spike walked alongside Faris, making sure they did not stray too far behind the couple.

"So... Faris, was it?" Spike said, looking over at the impressive guard. "How long have you been with the El-Hashim family?"

"Since I graduated from the academy: the year Sheba was born," the stallion said curtly.

"The academy?" Spike asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, the academy: the Saddle Arabian Academy," the stallion said, once more in a rather set and no-nonsense voice. It was polite, or at least somewhat, but other than that... not really a good conversation voice. "I was the top of my class." He sounded a little proud at that: dutifully so, even.

"You were, huh?" Spike said, stroking his chin. "Were you hand-picked by the general to serve him in his home?"

"Yes, though not just him: I was to be his daughter's bodyguard until she married," the stallion said. "I have served my general and his family faithfully every day of my life: from before dawn until after dusk, I am at their beck and call. My reward is a place to stay and a home for my family."

"Sounds reasonable enough, given the circumstances," Spike thought to himself as the two of them followed Mehmed and Sheba around a corner. Spike almost stopped in his tracks, as had Mehmed and Sheba.

"Here we are," she said sweetly to Mehmed, pulling him forward slightly to get him walking again. "This is my home: what do you think?"

The prince didn't say anything for a moment. "It's... it's... well, it's impressive, to be honest. I didn't think anypony would grow up in a place like... this."

And he was correct: Spike too would have never assumed a mare like Sheba could have come from this very home. Actually, it was less of a home and more of a fortress, to be exact. Buttresses, sharpened walls of steel framing many of the ledges: small guard towers, each with almost complete views of the surrounding areas, minus the support structures, of course. The windows were all barred, and the doors looked like they could withstand a battering ram.

But it was not entirely foreboding. There were fountains here and there, several clumps of trees, and many, many hanging carpets and embroidered decorations. Several statues, likely those of historical military figures, graced the area. There were flowers blooming all around shaded areas, and there was even the faint smell of jasmine in the air. There were decorative towers, several spiral minarets, and many of the fountains had small floating flowers on them, like the kind one might find in the shallow waters of a lake.

It was like a lady fortress and the king's palace had met up one night, got drunk, proceeded to have sex, and then eleven months later, the fortress gave birth to this odd amalgamation of both intimidating and welcoming imagery.

The massive doors opened, and three guards stepped out, with a hooded figure rushing in front of them.

"Sheba!" the voice called, welcoming and warm, inviting and kind: a mare's voice.

"Mother!" Sheba replied, rushing up to the mare and wrapping her arms around her, pulling them both into a tight embrace. "When did you get back?" Her mother had gone to visit some relatives to the east, and although Sheba had been offered the chance to come, her father had forbidden it.

"Just ten minutes ago, my darling little flower," the mare said, breaking them apart to look at Mehmed and Spike. "Oh, you have brought company?"

"Yes, yes!" Sheba said, rushing back to Mehmed and Spike, pulling them forward to meet her mother. "This is Spike," she said, gesturing to the disguised dragon, "and this is Mehmed," she added, pushing the prince towards her mother slightly.

"I-it's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. El-Hashim" Mehmed said, bowing slightly before the mother of the mare he was planning to marry. In a startling twist, they resembled each other greatly: Sheba and Badr. The same mane, the same eyes, even the same color of their pelt: the only noticeable difference was the height and color of their manes, as Badr's mane was lighter, and she was also a bit shorter than her daughter. That height and slight difference in mane color were probably inherited from Sheba's father.

"Please, call me Badr," the mare said, her voice sounding slightly different after she heard the stallion's name. Surprise? Intrigue? Perhaps... a little bit of fear? "Please, come in, both of you," she said, the sweetness returning to her voice once more. "I shall have the servants fetch you something to drink: wine, perhaps?"

"No, no, no wine, please," Spike said in a bit of a rush. "It... it doesn't agree with us." More specifically, it didn't agree with him. The last thing he needed was to be escorted back to the palace, drunk and trying to show everypony he could honestly breathe fire out of his ass or something. He couldn't, but he sincerely hoped he'd never try that.

"It is no problem: water, then," Badr said with grace as they all walked inside the home-fortress. The doors closed behind them, and they were met by the same kind of thing they had seen outside. Fountains, statues, guard posts, terraced overhangs, decorative carpets and plants, the occasional guard standing in front of a door: this was a place of contradictions, all right. Scary and pleasant on the outside, scary and pleasant on the inside: all they needed now were some creepy clowns and some cute little puppies, and everything would be balanced out even more.

After heading inside to escape the heat of the late morning sun, Sheba sat down with Mehmed on a vast expanse of pillows just as a few servants came in with some water and baskets of fruit: at least they hadn't brought wine. They were soft, thankfully, and while Spike wished his wives didn't have to be cooped up in the tower all day, he knew they would much rather be waited on hand and hoof up there than in this place.

"Please, sit: enjoy," Sheba's mother said as she too sat down: the guards, including Faris, remained standing. Spike sat down apart from them, letting Sheba and Mehmed sit close to one another. Picking a fruit, he smuggled it under his robes and munched on it, not sure if Sheba had told her mother or the guards of his... peculiar heritage.

"So, Badr," Mehmed said as he finished a fruit. "Just how did you and the general meet?"

"Oh, it is a long and rather amazing tale, if I do say so myself," Badr said with another sweet smile. "Sheba, would you do the honors?"

Sheba almost bounced with glee. "Ooh, it is my favorite story: thank you mother!" She turned to Mehmed and settled herself down, and began. "It was a cool, calm desert night, out in the sands of Saddle Arabia's southern deserts. My father was on the track of some bandits, who had made off with many members of a wealthy merchant's trade caravan. He..."

She went on and on with the story, her actions becoming more and more excited with each passing transition. She pantomimed the sword duels, her actions making Mehmed smile and laugh with happiness as he listened to her recount her father's daring deeds. She had really come out of the nervous, private shell Spike had met her in when Mehmed and he went to the bar. She was now vibrant, full of spontaneity and excitement as she regaled in her father's past exploits. Spike, on the other hand, was far from disinterested, but he kept noticing something odd. Badr was not watching her daughter the entire time: her eyes kept flickering over to Mehmed. Not in a sexual manner, any way: no scanning his body or anything. No, she kept looking at his face as he laughed and cajoled Sheba, who responded in kind. She was watching him for something, and after the climax of the story, Spike could tell she had found it.

He had found it too, since he had looked over at the same time. The expressions on both of the young ponies' faces were as clear as a gleaming shield in the middle of the bright desert sun.

They were in love. As corny as it sounded, their lives had been transformed into a fairy-tale three-day romance. They had developed feelings for each other so fast, that if Spike hadn't known from experience, then he'd have had to call it out as being a fallacy brought on by young pony hormones. But this was not a trick of biology: they were truly in love, and right now, that had Spike worried.

It seems his worry was shared by Sheba's mother, who looked up in surprise to see a messenger servant approach them. He leaned down and whispered into the mare's ear, causing her eyes to widen slightly.

"Oh, um, Sheba, could you stay here with Mehmed? His... bodyguard and I has something to discuss: pay no attention to our departure."

Wait, discuss something with his bodyguard? Almost on instinct, but not without a twinge of rebellious thought, Spike stood at the same time Badr did, noticing how Sheba and Mehmed seemed to have not even noticed what the mare's mother had said. Following the mare and two of the guards, Spike looked at her quizzically when they entered what had to be a war room.

"What's going on?" Spike asked through his robes. He really hoped she wasn't going to try and seduce him: that would be very awkward, made even more so by the possibility she had been at the Stud Shack the other day. He didn't know anything about her life: maybe she was lonely?

"Her father is here," Badr said, a note of panic entering her voice. Oh good: one problem goes away, only to be replaced by another, bigger one. "I promised to meet him in the main hall, but should he see Mehmed with his daughter, without his permission..."

"Oh boy," Spike said. "So, you're meeting him here?"

"No, Spike the dragon: you are," the mare said. "He's wanted to meet a dragon for some time now, and he has no idea you came here with the prince."

So she _had _known, all this time. "But... but," Spike stuttered, trying to see a way this did not end badly: it was not a bright prognosis. "What do I do?"

"Anything: I must get Mehmed to come to my husband by himself, as a visitor and not a guest of my daughter's. To do that, I must distract Sheba, and in this house, that is a very difficult task for anypony."

"Well... okay," Spike said, still not sure this plan would work out. In all likelihood, it would crash and burn like a flaming, out-of-control carriage smashing into the side of a stone wall. "But, what about-,"

She was already disappearing through the doors they had arrived in. Spike sighed in frustration, turning around just as another set of large doors opened to the room, and in strode who could only be Husam El-Hashim.

He was near the same height as Mehmed: taller than most ponies, but still a bit shorter than Spike himself. And... that was where the similarities pretty much ended. He was broad-shouldered, with streaks of gray in his mane and even speckles of the same gray around the small facial hair he had near his chin. His body was hunched slightly, and he walked with a slight limp, though the way he moved, you might have thought he didn't even know of it. His hands, large and slightly wrinkled from age, were attached to equally large arms, though one could tell they were not what they had once been. His tail was cut somewhat shorter, and even that did not hide the graying streaks through it. His hooves made solid noises on the ground: he was heavy, and yet moved quicker than a pony of similar size.

But his face: his face was what made Spike unsure if Mehmed would survive asking Sheba to be his queen. Scars covered his face, with one rather big one framing his right eye. The eyes themselves were untouched, and seemed as sharp as ever, though the cold bluish-grey within them seemed to take in the world around them with a severity that Spike had never seen before. His jaw was strong, and even though small jowls were beginning to show along the cheeks, one could tell this was a fighting pony. His jaw was set, and if his teeth hadn't been bared like they were, Spike would never have suspected that half were either covered in some metal or had been replaced by such.

"Who are you?" the stallion asked as he lumbered by Spike, apparently none-too-concerned of a stranger in his war room. His voice was gruff and slightly raspy: likely from shouting at cadets and their superiors to do better, or giving orders on the battlefield.

"S-Spike, sir," the dragon said as he removed the robes that hid his heritage from view: his wings unfurled, free from their confinement, and now his entire head was bare. With a slight feeling of relief, his tail too was now free, swaying slightly as he slowly approached the grizzled old stallion. "I am Spike Dragul."

"Ah, a dragon!" the general said, his voice more of a shout as he opened a small drawer in a desk. Sitting down, he snatched out two glasses and thick-looking bottle. "Please, sit," he said, pointing to a chair in front of his desk. Spike sat down, feeling like a schoolcolt who had been sent to the principal's office. "Care for a drink?" the stallion asked, offering the dragon a glass.

"No, no thank you," Spike replied. The stallion merely shrugged, grunting slightly as he did.

"Suit yourself," he said, downing the alcoholic beverage in one gulp. With a satisfied sigh, he slammed the glass down on the table, and to Spike's amazement, it didn't shatter like, well, glass. "So," he said, pouring another glass but content, for now, to just hold it in one old hand. "What brings you to my humble home?"

He didn't seem too much of a general, but then again, most didn't try and bring every aspect of military life into their homes. If that were the case, then there'd likely be no fountains or trees or flowers or statues on the entire premise. "I'm, uh, I'm... visiting. From Equestria, you see, and one of the stops on my journey was here in Saddle Arabia."

"Saddle Arabia, huh? Good country: strong, proud nation," the general said. "A good choice on your part. Where are you staying?"

"In the king's palace: as a royal guest," Spike said, quickly adding the "guest" part.

The general's mouth formed a small scowl. "The king, eh? You royalty?"

"Well, yes, technically," Spike said, knowing this had been a bad idea from the start. "My wives and I-,"

"Your wives?" the general asked, arching an eyebrow as he drank the glass of alcohol dry. "You're married?"

"Well, yes," Spike said.

"You seem rather young to be married to... how many wives did you say?" Husam asked as he poured himself another glass.

"I didn't, but if you must know, four," Spike said.

"Four! By the sands of the north, four is a good number," the general said, setting his glass down and looking over Spike. "Expecting?"

This was getting awfully personal: Spike really hoped Badr would get back with Mehmed soon. "Y-yes: three of them are expecting," Spike said, not wanting to elaborate on that.

It seemed fate sided with him in that regard, as the general looked out the window. "Is Equestria a nice place?" he asked.

"Very much so," Spike said, grateful for the change in topic. Though, when he thought about it, this felt more like an interrogation that a friendly meeting. Then, to his deepest gratitude, the doors opened once more, and looking back, Spike saw it was none other than Mehmed and Badr.

The general took one look at Mehmed and nearly fell out of his chair. "Why are you in my house?" he asked, this time not in a shout, but in a rather strange whisper. His demeanor had gone from gruff but stille somewhat friendly to downright hostile in the blink of an eye.

"I was invited here, along with Spike Dragul," Mehmed said, a tone of confusion in his voice.

"You invited him inside, knowing she's here?" Husam asked, his eyes turning on his wife.

She nodded slowly. "It was she who invited them, husband: Sheba does not know."

"Not know what?" Mehmed asked in confusion, turning to Badr.

"You are the son of the king, the future king of Saddle Arabia," the general said, rising to his hooves. On instinct, Spike rose to his feet, ready to break up a fight, should it start. "You are privy to the greatest luxuries this country can provide: the best tutors, the best trainers, advisors, gifts, foods, immeasurable wealth and political power..."

"Yes?" Mehmed said.

"You are at the same age your father was, or very close to it," Husam said.

"What age? The age he married my mother?" the prince asked.

At the word "married", Husam almost threw his glass, judging from the way he twitched. "Yes, the very same," he said. "Tell me, your highness, have you found a mare you wish to be your queen?"

Spike and Mehmed simultaneously blanched at this: how in the world had he known about that? "I... I think so," the prince said slowly, taking an involuntary step back. Spike tensed: this was not going to end well.

"May I know her name?" the general asked, his voice becoming an almost deadly whisper.

"Uh, I... I would prefer not to say," Mehmed replied. That did not sit well with the general, it seemed.

"Leave now, prince: you do not belong in this house," Husam said abruptly. "Leave now, and never come back."

"But... but," Mehmed began, only for him to be cut off by the general once more.

"I said, leave: did you not hear me? Does that lofty title of prince dull your senses and make you deaf to my words?" Husam's face was covered in a rage-causing glare. "Sheba is off-limits to you, prince: she is not for you to have, no matter how much power you will come to wield! Get out of my house!"

Spike walked backwards and grabbed the prince by the arm, sending him a quiet look before the son of the king could make a retort that would send this spiraling out of control. Pulling him again, they turned and walked out, passing Badr as she winced in apology.

"Yes, go: just go!" the general called, his voice almost a bellow now. "You royalty and your inflated senses of self-entitlement! You take what you perceive to be yours, and never leave anything for the rest of us! You take and take and take, and expect us to just keep giving!"

The doors slammed shut behind Spike and Mehmed, cutting off the stallion's angry shouts. "Come on, let's get you home," Spike said, leading the prince away from the once-friendly abode. "We need to talk."

Meanwhile...

Inside the war room, Husam fell into his chair, blowing an errant bit of his mane out of his face. Badr marched right up to him as he reached for his glass and began to pour himself another serving of alcohol.

"Do you know what you just did? You insulted the prince!" she said, her voice severe.

"I don't care, Badr," the stallion said. "Sheba is to not be let outside again: she cannot go anywhere near him. The risk of him asking her to be his queen is too great a danger: my spies in the royal court have told me as such."

"I believe we are already past that point, husband," his wife replied, causing the stallion to look up in surprise. "Your spies are not always the most up-to-date with their reports, it would seem."

"What?" he asked, a dumbfound expression gracing his features.

"They already know one another, and as I thought might happen, they have fallen in love," Badr replied. "I have seen it, as has Spike."

"No: impossible!" the general said. "I strictly forbade her from going to a bar without an escort! He never went there before, and I was assured he never would! How did this happen?"

"I am afraid that your insistence helped make it happen: all your precautions, and yet she met the prince anyway. You said she would never see him in her life, and now I'm afraid it is too late to stop all this," Badr said.

The general was silent for a few moments. "You are sure they are in love?" he asked softly. He could hope she was mistaken: it would not be the first time. Perhaps...

"It was as clear as the looks on their faces," his wife said, causing the slight hope in his chest to implode. Husam was silent for minutes, looking into his glass, until said silence became too much for his wife to bear. "Why do you hate him so, husband? Why have you hated him since the first day you heard of his birth?" He had literally been the only general not to show up at the prince's inauguration, informing everyone he was rooting out a massive bandit infestation in the mountains: in reality, he had been staying up there with his army, practicing maneuvers and not bothering to come, just to spite the king and his newborn offspring.

"He is his father's son," the general said, taking a swig of his drink. "He is the son of the stallion who stole the mare of my dreams." He would not let that go: he likely never could, for it was so far ingrained into his psyche that to remove it would require someone with unnatural happiness. And Pinkie Pie was on the other side of the world.

Badr had been hearing of this for too long, and by now had grown tired of it. "He is also his mother's son: can you not see that as well? Why must you keep burning the fuse on this candle of hatred you feel for the king and his only son?"

"Because they are the same! They are after the same thing!" Husam said, slamming his glass down on his desk, sloshing some of the contents out onto the floor. "I lost my love to the king in a duel I should have won, a duel that he cheated in, and now I'm going to lose my daughter to his son!" He sighed angrily. "He took her away from me, my wife: I had never felt such rage as when he informed me of his decision. He was a gutless coward, to do that to me: me, his oldest and closest friend! Now his son, his spoiled, rotten brat of a colt, is going to do the same with Sheba! My daughter!"

Few in the army or outside of his home knew it, but Husam had an incredibly soft spot in his heart for his daughter Sheba. She was one of the few things in his life he looked upon with everlasting pride and joy, the kind of thing that, should he lose, would devastate him in a way worse than when he had lost the mare he loved to the king.

"But he had to: for the sake of the kingdom," Badr said, though she knew when her husband was in this state, it was pointless to argue with him.

"For the kingdom: ha!" Husam replied, swallowing the remaining dregs of his drink. "He can say and insist and tell everypony that tale all he wants, but I know the real reason: he wanted what I had, and he felt entitled to it. His son is no different: if he comes near Sheba, I swear I will make him regret the day he set hoof in my home!"

Badr sighed: this was going to be very difficult to tell Sheba. She left her husband to his alcohol, knowing it could only get worse from here on out. The bitter, old stallion would never let this grudge go, and now it seemed Mehmed was going to be paying for the "sins" of his father, sins he had no say in.

These two young lovers, Prince Mehmed and Sheba El-Hashim, were going to be torn apart by the long lasting, utterly bitter feud of their fathers: who would be brave enough to step in and try to make their fairy tale have a happy ending?


	36. A Harsh Truth and a Harsher Lesson

Chapter Thirty Six

A Harsh Lesson and a Harsher Truth

"All this time, you've hidden this from me?" Mehmed asked, angry that his parents couldn't even seem to meet his gaze. "This entire time, you knew, and I had to find out from Spike first?!"

Spike shuffled his feet quietly near the door, wishing he could escape up to his brides. He had chosen to tell the prince the truth: all of it. There was no doubt it had been the right thing to do: it hadn't been easy, after all, and the easiest thing to do usually isn't the right thing.

"We had hoped you would find out sooner," the king said, looking at his wife with a pained expression. "We just had never hoped you'd find out... like this."

"This is the mare I want to be my queen, the one I love, and I just find out her father could have been mine if you had been a less-skilled duelist?" the prince asked angrily, looking directly at his father.

"Well, when you put it that way, of course it sounds bad," the king said, an odd combination of meekness and resignation in his voice. "Son, you must not let this make you lose sight of your goal."

"My goal? As in, the goal you two set out for me to do in order for this kingdom to continue down our family line? I never wanted to be part of this!" the prince shouted. "Now I have found the mare of my dreams, and if I cannot have her, then I will have nopony! I will stay a bachelor, single until the day I die. Then this blasted kingdom will fall into ruin later than it should have, if all these stories and lies are anything to go by!"

"Watch your tone, son: you mustn't speak of things like that," the king said, a new hardness entering his voice that sent a slight tremor down Spike's spine. Wow, talk about the kingdom falling apart really got under the king's hide.

"So? It is nothing less than we deserve. All my life you have groomed me to be the next king, to be a representative of my country and kingdom: to pick a mare that would bear my foals. Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe, I wanted to be something else?" Mehmed asked, his voice lowering slightly below the shouts of before. "That maybe I wanted to come into my birthright on my own, without the "guidance", nitpicking and iron-fisted rule that was set before me? I want to make my own mistakes so that I can learn from them, not be coddled and cajoled into doing something I have no idea how to fix should it become too troublesome to handle."

The king was growing more and more flustered, and Spike had no idea what was going to happen.

"I must do what my heart tells me I must: I chose Sheba over this kingdom," Mehmed said, his final words hanging in the air for several seconds. Then, the king exploded, quite literally, off of his thrown, his quick loping bounds crossing the distance between him and his son in the blink of an eye. Spike had never known anypony to move that fast at that age.

"You fool!" the king roared, backhanding his son across the face and sending him sprawling to the floor. "Do you have _any_ idea what you are saying? Has _anything_ but your own thoughts and desires ever made it into that thick skull of yours?!"

Mehmed merely looked up at his father in shock: nopony had ever had the audacity to strike him before, and his father had never so much as looked at him with a violent eye. "I...I...I-"

"You _what?_ You thought you could just make a decision like this and there would be _no_ consequences?!" the king roared, a wild and surprisingly pained look in his eyes. "You think that your decision to abandon your kingdom, your birthright, would just go away and turn out all right in the end?" His fists clenched, the king took a step towards his son, only to be stopped a further advancement by Spike's outstretched hand, which gently but firmly placed itself on his shoulder.

"_Enough,_" Spike said, his voice firm and unyielding in its severity. If he had to, he would beat up a king. "You are a king: _act _like one."

The king looked between Spike and his own son, then back to Spike, and back to his only son before his fists unfurled and his shoulders slouched. He had been so full of kingly vigor, and now... it was like all the hot air in him had been let out.

"You have no idea what it is like, Mehmed," the king said softly, his voice hoarse from the sudden outburst. "You have been raised to adulthood in luxury: in your time, our kingdom has never known war, no famines have occurred, and the people adore the reigning heads of state."

"What are you getting at?" Mehmed said as he slowly rose to his hooves.

"I was not entirely truthful to your friend Spike here when I told him of how Husam and I became enemies," the king said softly as the queen rushed to his side. "I... I too considered just letting the kingdom fall apart after my father died. My head was filled with wild, amazing ideas: a republic, a democracy, a constitutional oligarchy: many forms of government passed through my head, ones where I would be nothing anymore but a footnote in history. I could be at peace, and the burden that was mine would be lifted from my shoulders."

He looked at his wife. "Then I discovered the truth: my ponies, our ponies, are not yet ready for such a drastic change. Maybe, in time, there will be no more need for kings and queens, emperors and empresses: the ponies of the land will rule themselves as a collective majority. Perhaps, someday, but the day I fought my former friend was the day I knew I needed to shoulder my responsibility, as I knew only the true son of the king could be the one to lead his kind to a brighter future."

"So? This is not so much different than what you told me," Mehmed said softly, a small bruise forming on his cheek. It wasn't much, but it would serve him as a reminder to not be such an idiot in the near future.

"It concerns the fight for your mother," the king said, looking at his son with a mixture of sorrow and pride. "In the fight, I told Spike I disarmed Husam due to the stallion's rage overriding some of his dueling skill. That is not true: Husam was far more skilled than I, and even in his rage, he was still a tad more skillful. I would have lost: nay, died, had I not done what I did."

"What did you do?" Spike asked, letting his hand drop from the king's shoulder to his own side.

"I... I cheated," the king admitted, a tear rolling down his nose. "I... tossed a vase at his chest after I had rolled away to avoid a blow. He slung out and deflected it, but that was all I needed to inflict a wound on him: the scar across his face, near his right eye."

"I... I always thought he had gotten that from another duel," the queen said.

"No: it was by my hand he was scarred there," the king said softly. "Then, in pain and with blood leaking into his eye, he threw up a hand to his face, as if forgetting the duel was happening. I took my chance and disarmed him, with his sword ending up in my hand. I... I could have finished him then and there. I wanted to, I felt like I had to: I knew he'd never get over my betrayal, and if I let him live, he'd be one more pony who'd want me dead or worse."

"So why did you let him live?" Mehmed asked his father. "Why let him live, if you knew he would be such a dangerous foe?"

"Because he had been my friend when I had none: he had been my closest confidant in my darkest hour," the king said, choking on a small sob. "Now it seems my decision to let him live has been brought back to a neutral state: my son has met his daughter and wishes to marry her. Only now, though, I am afraid Husam will never let that happen. He sees too much of you in me, too much of the stallion who betrayed and injured him on that night all those years ago. I... I am sorry, Mehmed: I am sorry, my son."

Silence: complete and utter silence pervaded the room like a thick mist, threatening to extend on forever until nothing remained. Then, without warning, Mehmed embraced his father.

"What?" the king asked, surprise filtering through another choked-back sob.

"It's okay, father: I understand," Mehmed said through his fierce embrace, one that was soon joined by the queen. "I... I forgive you: for everything."

The king looked like he was about to say something, but apparently decided against it. Instead, he hugged his son and wife against him, tightening their embrace as they let the angst and turbid feelings inside them wash away.

Spike felt out of place in this moment, like a pitchfork at a spoon convention. This conversation reminded him of the many he had had with Twilight back when he was younger, minus the physical aspect of it. Right then and there, he felt very lonely: he had four beautiful wives and three foals on the way, sure, but he missed home. He was only about halfway done with this world-winded tour, and even then he knew that he'd have to start sending much, much more back with his next letter.

Leaving the family behind, the dragon slowly made his way up to his quarters, only to find his wives asleep on his bed. Well, with nothing much else to do and strict rules against them going outside by themselves, sleep was likely the best thing they could do. That, or talk, though Spike knew that Maria and Chrysalis had finally made up: that was a plus, at least.

Settling down into a seat and retrieving a quill and some ink, Spike began to write.

"_Dearest friends,_" he began. "_I know I have not written in a long while, nor would I wish to keep doing such a thing. These last few weeks have been... strenuous, so to speak. Bandits attacked us after we headed out of Neighypt and our time in Maredagascar was not too pleasant either: the week-long storm really out a damper on things. After that, we were attacked by pirates around the coast of Somalia, but the convoy we were in managed to fend them off._"

He didn't want to tell them of how he had become a flying, flaming instrument of death, or else he'd never hear the end of Twilight's rants on "dangerous dragon behavior" or something like that. Granted, they wouldn't be wasted, but he really, really didn't want to listen to them right now, or ever, really.

"_We safely arrived in Saddle Arabia and have been having a rather splendid time, though there have been problems between the prince, his parents, and the daughter of a certain troublesome general. The situation is, I hope, being rectified as I write this."_

It was a pleasant thought.

"_On a happier note, Trixie has been coming along nicely in her pregnancy, although some of the more odious symptoms have started to make themselves known._" The other day, Trixie had ordered the servants to bring her seventy pounds of grapes, and everypony had watched in horror as she gobbled down each and every one like a possessed demon. Then she ate five bowls of cabbage, and last night had been the fartiest night in Spike's life: an open torch exploded into flame on one exceptionally powerful gust of flatulent air from Trixie's derriere. "_Meia and Maria are also pregnant, so in several months' time, I should be expecting three new additions to the royal household. Asalah shows no sign of being pregnant, not for lack of trying: her cycle simply hasn't come around again._"

He paused for a moment: he had referred to Chrysalis as Meia once again, thereby digging them all deeper into a hole he knew would be a pain to exit. Some time or another, everypony else would have to learn about the queen of the Changelings falling in love and being impregnated by Spike the dragon. He only hoped they would warm up to her faster than if she hadn't: he didn't know why he got so protective around them, but if it came down to it, he'd gladly defend them from any attack, by any pony.

"_With sincerest regards, Spike._" With that and a tongue of flame slipping between his teeth and over the now rolled-up scroll, Spike sent the message back home, half the world away. He did miss it: truly, he did.

There was a soft knock on the door, causing the purple and green dragon to look away from the window through which the message had flown. Walking over to the door, he opened it gently to see one of the guards waiting for him.

"Sir Spike, the prince wishes to see you," the guard said.

"Thank you: I'll be right down," the dragon said, walking back and putting his supplies away. He stopped, looking at his journal: he had been writing in it ever since he had met "Meia" on the _Crowhop_, but he'd never really given any thought to it. He'd assumed it would just be his journal, something for only friends and relatives to see. But now he saw it in a different light: this would be read by countless generations of ponies in Equestria as a guide to so much of the outside world. Spike, after all, had written in great detail everything he had seen: the landscapes, the ponies that inhabited them, and the many exotic things to do in such places. He was writing what would become a piece of history.

"Wow," he thought as he gently packed it away. Leaving his still-sleeping wives alone once more, he ventured down until he came upon an unusual sight: the prince, along with both the king and queen, were dressing up in disguised clothing.

"His mother thought we should try it out for once," the king told Spike in a hushed tone when the dragon approached them. "This plan of his is secret, even to us: all he wants is for us to be there."

"Mehmed has a plan?" Spike whispered back as he and the king followed the other two disguised royals out of the palace. Spike had not taken off his "bodyguard" disguise, so no pony gave him so much as a second glance.

The king merely nodded. Spike, on the other hand, had serious doubts as to the validity of whatever Mehmed was planning. Was he going to whisk Sheba away? Was he going to use his royal heritage and power to bully the general into doing what he wished? Was he-

"We're here, you know," the king said, causing Spike to snap out of his reverie. He looked up to see them entering the castle-home in which Sheba and her family resided.

"Oh," was all Spike could say as several guards let them inside after the queen whispered something to them. Surprise surprise, a familiar figure approached them, nervously wringing their hands.

"What are you doing back? Are you crazy?" Badr asked. "He's still in a horrible mood: if he sees you in here, he'll have you all thrown out!"

"No need for worries, mother of Sheba," Mehmed said, removing his disguise. "I intend to speak with Husam: by_myself,_" he added, casting a look at the others, especially the king and queen. Before anypony could object, and it sure looked like his parents were going to, the prince strode past them all and entered through the doors from whence he had been ejected before, right into the war room. With a slam they closed behind him, and so the entire group found themselves in an unnatural silence.

"Did he tell you what he was going to do?" Spike asked the queen. She simply shook her head, her unblinking eyes never leaving the door her son had entered.

The silence seemed to just stretch on and on, as if the instant Mehmed had entered the war room, all time had ceased to flow within. In Spike's eye, this could mean one of two things: either Mehmed and Husam were having a civil conversation, or...

"No, he wouldn't do that," Spike thought. The general may have been a madman, a crazy drunk, but he would never stoop so low as to do...

There had been swords in the room, though...

Just then, right as Spike was going to check on them, the doors swung open and out strode Husam, a glint in his eye and his jaw set. "Prepare my arena," he said to the guards, some of whom were already moving at the word " arena".

"What?" the king asked, looking aghast as Mehmed strode out, looking none the worse for wear. "Son, what did you do?"

"Challenge him to a duel for Sheba's hand in marriage," the prince said simply, earning gasps from Spike, the queen and the king once more. "It will be a private affair: nopony else in the kingdom, besides a few guards, will know it ever happened."

"That's because it will not happen! I cannot allow this!" the king said, roughly grasping his son's shoulders.

"You know the rules, your highness," Husam said, spitting out the word "highness" like it was an insult. "He challenged me and I have accepted: we will duel in thirty minutes." With that, the general strode off, disappearing into the armory that connected to the arena.

Mehmed strode after him, Spike left holding onto a sobbing queen. "What happens if he loses the duel?" Spike whispered. The king followed the prince close behind, his urgent words of the prince's idiotic decision falling on apparently deaf ears.

"Husam... he chooses what happens," the queen said through a choking sob. "Denial of Sheba's hand in marriage, reluctant acceptance, or..."

Or? "Or what?" Spike asked, a nasty feeling in his gut telling him what "or" meant.

"Or... death," the queen said, her sobs renewing for a short time. "It... it is the law the of the land, from before Saddle Arabia had a king or queen. It supersedes our authority, and such a duel can only be called off by the one who accepted it."

"Oh _shit,_" Spike muttered under his breath, not knowing what else to do. Just then, after finally deciding to get over her own shock, Badr came over and quietly pried the queen out of Spike's arms, though he wasn't even holding onto her. She was the one who had been nearly crushing him in her grief-fuelled embrace.

Sighing and knowing this would not turn out well, Spike left them and headed after a few guards, a sign clearly marking the arena. Clambering over some seats, he sat down in front, looking down into the sparse arena. It was made simply of compact dirt, dusty and littered with dropped or useless weapons. The walls had no spikes nor other dangers: it was just a large circle in which ponies could settle their differences by the sword.

Meanwhile...

"Son, you must not do this!" the king said as his son handled a helmet: it covered one's entire head, leaving nothing but one's mane sticking out. The eye slits were large enough to not obstruct one's vision in any way, but then again, they were large enough to be a problem if one targeted said eyes.

"Why, father? I am doing what you taught me to do," Mehmed said as he set the helmet down on the pile of armor he would wear. It was not thick and bulky like the armor of European ponies: it was light, flexible, and not very strong. By very strong, in that it would not arrest the blow of a determined foe's blade, but a glancing hit would not penetrate, at least. "I intend to make him see the error of his ways and earn Sheba's hand in marriage, preferably with his blessing."

"You have gone insane, my son," the king said, letting out a depressing laugh as he slouched down onto a bench. "You really don't know what you are going up against, are you?"

"He is an old pony: granted, an amazing duelist and strategist, but he is many years my senior. I can beat him," the prince said as he picked up and swung around a short sword: a side-arm, or secondary weapon, if you will, should his first be discarded or damaged beyond used.

"Trust me when I say this: all you have on your side is your youth, and naiveté," the king said, looking around the armory. It was a separate one from where Husam had strode off to, and it showed: there were paintings of famous generals, while there was no doubt no trappings at all in Husam's private armory.

"Must you always doubt me, father?" Mehmed asked as he picked up a war hammer, giving it a few test swings.

"I do not doubt you: I doubt Husam will relent just because you are my son," the king said, blinking in realization of something only he understood.

"I wouldn't want it any other way," the prince said as he held up a chain mail shirt. "I want this to be a fair fight, with nopony holding back. Only then, after I beat him, can he truly see I am worthy of his daughter."

The king sighed: Mehmed wasn't listening. He was young, yes, and full of optimism, but the king knew better. The world was usually harsh to ones like him, and Husam would be no exception. Husam was a master duelist: he always had been, and unlike many other generals who reached his age, he had more or less kept himself in reasonable fighting condition. Sure, he had gained a few pounds here and there, but the zebra was surpsingly light on his hooves. Mehmed wouldn't stand a chance, but what could he do?

"I am sorry, son," the king said, rising to his hooves.

Meanwhile...

Spike did not like how silent the arena was. It was as if Death itself was waiting in the seats, maybe even right next to him, just waiting for the chance to claim another life. Badr and the queen had not come, thankfully: Spike didn't know if he could stand to watch such a thing with them watching it as well. The few guards who had showed up were standing at attention along both doors that lead into the arena, their armor glistening in the light.

Sheba had not shown up either, something Spike was even more grateful for. Whoever won here today could in theory kill their opponent, and for her, it would be a doubly-damaging thing to see: the stallion she had fallen in love with cut down by her father, or her father run through by the one she loved. Either way, it would not end well, and Spike knew he couldn't interfere: the guards he had asked had made it explicitly apparent there could be no outside interference from him, or the duel would simply be rescheduled with him not present.

Then, with a great groaning noise, the door to the far wall opened, and out strode Husam. He was clad head to hoof in armor, not thick plates like a knight's or a guard's. Instead, it was mostly chain mail, with leather greaves and gauntlets serving as protection for his lower legs and forearms. His helmet, an intimidating creation that had two great, feathered horns, gave him a demonic appearance. He had several weapons on him: one long sword, a small short sword, and an oval-shaped shield that tapered to a point near his hooves. The latter two he carried out with him, his walking making them look almost weightless. The longer sword remained in his sheath, though it was truly a nasty-looking piece of work.

"I call forth my challenger," Husam said in a clear voice, surprising as his helmet covered most of his face.

The door on the far side opened with barely a sound, and out strode Mehmed. His helmet hid his features, but the way he carried himself was a dead giveaway. He too wore chain mail, and the same kind of leg greaves, but the gauntlets for him were metal, like knights in Europe. He carried with him a long-handled military scythe, similar to a sword but with a much longer "blade" portion. He too carried a shield, this one more shaped like a curved rectangle, and instead of a sword, he carried a singular mace. It had no spikes, but instead had several metal rings wrapped around the blunt end, making it much more likely to break something upon contact: bone, metal, wood, whatever.

Mehmed didn't respond: maybe the king had finally shown him a few tricks of the dueling trade that only one like himself would know. With that, he stepped forward, and at the same time, both doors swung closed behind the two.

It was a long walk to the center, and as soon as both combatants bowed, the duel had officially begun. Spike only hoped both would survive it.


	37. A Promising Compromise

Chapter Thirty Seven

A Promising Compromise

The two figures stood stock still in the middle of the arena, neither moving as a light breeze made some of the floor's dust swirl around them. The stoic nature of them both seemed very eerie, as if they had ceased to be ponies and were now statues. Even the birds, so common high up in the few trees framing the castle fortress, were uncharacteristically silent, as if a great predator had suddenly appeared in their mist.

"So, any second thoughts on this duel?" Husam asked loudly, more than enough for Spike to hear a good distance away. "Are you going to break down and plead for mercy, little colt?" Jeering an opponent usually made them lose their focus and react with emotional strength instead of physical, a dangerous gamble that rarely, if ever, paid off.

Mehmed merely shook his head, not uttering a single word: Husam's display of utter asshole-ity wasn't affecting him at all, it seemed. Any other stallion his age would be either sweating from fear or shaking with barely-suppressed rage at that kind of taunt. Most had been taught to respond in kind to an insult, usually in a physical manner: it seemed the prince thought differently.

"Fine then: have at thee, then," Husam said, drawing his sword back: the real fight had begun. With seemingly little effort, he swung it forward, aiming for the prince's shoulder with the speed and skill of one who had done this for many a year. It would be a clean slice, likely penetrating through the armor and halfway to the bone-

Or it would have been, had it not been for the blur that was Mehmed's mace coming up to block the strike. Metal clanged on metal as sword met mace, but Mehmed was stronger than he appeared: the mace held with little effort and he soon pushed away, driving off Husam's attack. His breathing quickened slightly, as would any in his situation: dueling was not a "calm" event.

"Well, that was unexpected," Husam said as the two combatants circled one another. "You are more skilled than you first let on. But it will not happen again, I assure you." He dove in again, his sword's tip aimed straight for Mehmed's knee.

Mehmed simply side-stepped the strike and lashed out with his shield, knocking Husam slightly off balance. It was enough for the elderly zebra to stumble, but he was nothing if not persistent and recovered in time to block a mace-blow with his own shield. He shrugged it off with little effort as well, pushing the weapon away.

Spike had the temptation to shield his eyes from the duel, but he just couldn't peel them away from what was happening before him. It was a flow of battle the likes of which he had never seen before.

Mehmed came in with an overhead strike with his mace, the blunt end making a loud thump as it impacted Husam's shield. Swinging his shield arm down and bringing the mace with it, Husam instead lashed out with his sword, which the prince barely managed to duck under. Another inch lower and the sword would have dinged off the very top of his helmeted head. Mehmed pushed up and forward with his shield from his crouched position, trapping Husam's sword arm across his body. The general kept trying to backpedal and free his arm, but Mehmed advanced in time with him, bringing his mace up and over to try and smash the zebra general in the face. Husam did all he could: bring his shield up repeatedly to fend off the mace. Every clang, every smash, every blow made a loud ringing sound in the arena as the two went back towards a wall. The dust kicked up by their hooves followed them like smoke billowing from a train engine.

Setting one hoof firmly behind him and pushing with all his might, Husam shoved Mehmed away, finally freeing his sword arm. With that, he launched a quick counterattack, his flurry of strikes barely blocked by the prince's own shield and mace. Both combatants grunted furiously as they dueled, their scrambling hooves kicking up small clouds of dust every time they slid or were driven back by a blocked attack. Then, on one particularly hard downward swing, a resounding crack echoed through the arena as a split formed right down the middle of Mehmed's tower shield. The prince sidestepped and managed to put some distance between himself and the general, which must have given him enough time to assess the damage, for Husam was on him again in a matter of seconds.

He threw up his shield once more, only for another crack to sound through the arena as another split formed down the shield, this time to the side. Blocking the next three strikes with his mace, Mehmed tried to press his advantage once more by going for Husam's head, forcing the general to become defensive again. He managed this for several strikes until the general unexpectedly charged, slamming his own shield into the prince's. The tower shield splintered and broke in two, falling apart in Mehmed's grasp.

The prince had to get it off his arm, as it was now useless and would only serve to slow him down. So, after dodging backwards from a few vicious swings, he slipped his arm out of the grip and threw the remaining piece of the shield at Husam, who threw his own shield up. The impact must have been rather fierce, as the general stumbled backwards and fell on his back in a cloud of dust.

Mehmed rushed forward, both hands on his mace's handle as he raised it up over his head. Then, when he was a few paces away, he launched himself into the air, his tail soaring behind him like a banner as he flew across the short distance. With the added momentum of his leap, he brought down the mace with a surprisingly loud yell, impacting...

Dust: a mere second before the mace smashed into the ground hard enough for dried dirt to fly up like a meteorite impact, Husam had rolled away. He swung out with his sword from his laying position, but Mehmed had recovered and jumped, cartwheeling through the air with his mace still stuck in the dirt. With a wrenching motion he pulled it free and drew back again. With another roar, which sounded violent, even in a situation like this, he swung it down again, the impact leaving a dent in Husam...

's shield. The general had frantically thrown his shield up to deflect the blow, but said blow almost drove him into the ground. Where had the prince gotten this sudden strength from? It was madness, for him to be fighting so well: the general knew his spies must not have been entirely accurate when they said the prince was trained by professional soldiers.

The only things was, Husam had trained many of those soldiers, so after the next shield-denting strike, he lashed out with his sword with extreme precision. His blow was just a bit too high, as he had been aiming to remove a piece of the prince's hoof: instead, the blow skidded off the leg greaves, driving Mehmed back a few steps. He came forward again, swinging down in time to once again strike dirt as Husam rolled out of the way. This time, he rolled to his hooves and lashed out with his sword, catching the prince off guard. In the shoulder guard, in fact: sparks flew as the sword skidded off the shoulder, leaving no wound other than a bruise but having enough force behind it to drive the prince back again.

"Give up: you are no match for me!" Husam said, not entirely sure what he was saying was the truth. Mehmed said nothing: he merely charged again, his mace coming in from the side like a metal haymaker punch. Husam threw up his shield, but the force threw him backwards through the air, just as a loud tearing noise sounded.

The shield had ripped itself apart from the blow, scattering in pieces as Husam once again landed on his back. However, this time he was up in a flash, as the loss of the weight of the shield gave him a significant boost in agility. He sidestepped another overhead blow from the prince and jammed his elbow right in the stallion's face, drivie him backwards. He followed it up with a slam to the shoulder he had bruised with the handle of his sword, the cast steel end serving like a small ball-peen hammer. It left a dent in the metal shoulder piece as Mehmed was driven to one knee. Raising his sword again, Husam brought it down just as Mehmed rushed up with his, causing both weapons to slam into each other.

The resulting clang drove Husam backwards several paces before he regained his balance, and Mehmed's knee was driven further into the dry dirt. Judging from the grunt he released from his throat, it had hurt a lot worse than it appeared, though Mehmed did not stay down. As he rose to his hooves, Spike saw the end of his mace fall off: the force he had been exerting on the end had fatally damaged the welded metal end, and all he had left now was a metal stick. The dragon looked over to see Husam looking at his sword in a manner suggesting dismay, although it was hard to tell with his odd demonic helmet.

The sword had a large, noticeable crack running down the middle near the hilt, and the very end had been snapped off like a twig, leaving behind a jagged shard. Indeed, the shining tip had flown away from the blow that created it and had embedded itself in a far wall, right next to a guard's head. Said guard had pissed himself in surprise and shock, judging from the puddle beneath him.

Husam and Mehmed threw their now-useless weapons to the ground and instead drew their secondary, or rather primary, weapons: Husam his broadsword, and Mehmed his military scythe. Both metallic instruments of death gleamed in the sunlight as a light breeze blew up a small cloud of dust, which swirled around them in an almost magical way. With twin roars matching in volume and ferocity, they charged once again, the dirt kicking up behind them as they outright sprinted towards one another, their trails mixing with the dust already in the air.

They leapt at each other in midair, both swings missing their target and instead clanging together as they landed. They each spun, blow matching blow as they swung again. Mehemed sidestepped one downwards strike and lashed out with his hoof, kicking Husam square in the chest. This sent the general back a few feet, enough for the prince to swing his scythe once more, aiming this time for the general's lower legs.

Husam jumped at this, the swing passing under his hooves. As he landed, however, Mehmed continued the path of his swing, making a complete circle where he was standing and this time making contact. It was not with Husam's blade, however: it hid the side of his thick chain mail, causing him to stumble to the side. Chain mail was designed to not be cut, so all the general got out of it was a fractured rib and severe bruising. But he didn't care about that now: he was too full of adrenaline and blood-lust to feel it.

Bringing his huge sword in front of him like a spear, Husam thrust at Mehmed, who just barely managed to sidestep and not be skewered on the sharp piece of metal. With another swing of the sword, Husam impacted Mehmed's side as well, though he used the broad side of the blade. This sent Mehmed flying, landing on the ground next to a piece of his shattered shield.

Husam gave him no chance to breathe: he advanced and swung his sword down, missing the side of the prince's head by an inch after Mehmed somewhat lurched himself out of the way. He tried again, but the military scythe blocked his attack, and no matter how hard he pushed, he could not bring his blade any closer to the prince. He then pressed his whole body into the push, causing the blade to inch closer, and closer, and closer...

Then, in a flurry of movement, Mehmed let go of his scythe's handle with one hand and rammed the gauntlet-covered fist into Husam's face, with most of the impact landing on the helmet. It did the trick, though, as Husam stumbled backwards, a small spray of blood exiting as he coughed: likely bit his lip or something. Then, the prince grabbed his bit of the shield, and smashed it alongside Husam's shin, sending him stumbling back further in pain. Some more blood dripped from the helmet onto his armor, and a small trickle came from the general's lower leg: a small shard of the metal shield had likely gashed open a bit of his skin.

Mehmed scrambled to his feet and lashed out again, throwing the shield piece at the stallion. Husam managed to deflect it away to his side, but Mehmed followed up that move by punching the stallion square in the face once more. Another spray of blood, a bit more this time, exited the general's helmet as he stumbled back again: likely a broken nose, now, judging from the sudden howl of pain. He shook his head to try and regain his thoughts: slight concussion as well, perhaps?

The general, after spitting out some blood, recovered his posture and tried swinging his sword down, but he was tiring, and it showed: the prince deflected the blow and with his free gauntlet-covered fist, punched Husam right in the rib where the scythe had landed before. The general grunted, causing some more blood to leave his mouth in a spray, and then the prince grabbed him by the shoulder. With a mighty thrust he smashed the front of his helmet against the general's causing them both to trmble slightly: Husam fell backwards a step, his head starting to get fuzzy from all the trauma he was suffering. Then another blow landed on his ribs, and then again as Mehmed landed another blow in the same spot, and then again, until the next strike was finally caught by the general's sword. Well, caught being an exaggeration: in reality, he barely managed to deflect the blow, the defensive maneuver sending sparks flying off the metal gloves as Mehmed withdrew his hand in pain. It hurt to punch really hard objects, and he had to quickly sidestep to avoid being run through by a sudden, desperate jab from Husam's sword.

As the general moved past the prince, Mehmed brought his elbow around, smashing it into the back of Husam's helmeted head. This, combining the already- unstable forward momentum of the general with a discombobulating strike, sent the zebra stallion stumbling, falling flat on his face some distance away. Mehmed shrugged his shoulder and rubbed his hand before almost casually strolling over to the general, who was looking at his sword only a few feet away.

He reached out to it, trying to grab it by the handle, only for a hoof to slowly press down on his fingers. In agony, he watched as Mehmed's free hoof kicked the sword away, leaving the general defenseless. That much was obvious as both hooves moved out of his vision, only for a searing pain to enter Husam's side. Mehmed kicked him in the stomach, and then the ribs, and then the stomach again, until one vicious kick flipped the zebra onto his back, wheezing and gasping for air. The strikes themselves were not vicious in the sense that the prince was trying to kill the general: rather, they were the blows one would use to beat an opponent into submission.

He tried to raise his arms to defend himself from a sword strike, but instead a hoof slammed itself right onto the general's chest, knocking some wind out of his lungs. Wheezing and coughing even more so, he tried to pry the prince's hoof off of him, but the standing stallion merely placed more weight into it, until the general gave up and let his arms fall back in defeat.

"Do it," he said, loud enough for Spike, who was on the edge of his seat, to hear. "Kill me: do what your father couldn't have done at your age. He didn't have the balls to do it: maybe you can be better than him!" His rage was tinged with grief, both at knowing he had been beaten fair and square, and the fact that he was going to lose his daughter to the prince, the same kind of stallion that his father was.

Mehmed remained silent, glancing at his glinting military scythe. It would be so easy, to just end him right there: a simple jab to the throat, and he would die within a few short minutes, choking on his own blood. But do that, the prince did not: he just stood there, looking down at the defeated general. His breathing was shallow and low, and the muscles in his entire body burned: he overexerted himself, and if the general had not fallen first, then he surely would have collapsed within a few more strikes.

"What are you waiting for?!" Husam cried, nopony else knowing he was crying in his helmet. "Do it: do it now! FINISH ME!"

"Why would I want to do that?" the victorious figure asked softly, resting his scythe on his knee as he reached down with his free hand..

Husam's eye's opened wide as Mehmed ripped off the general's helmet, casting it aside and revealing the old, grizzled, scarred and blood-stained face of the zebra within. "You... you..."

"What? Speechless when you were so chatty before?" The victorious figure reached up with his free hand and tugged his own helmet off, revealing a face much like Mehmed's, only older and wearing a slightly pained expression.

"You... you..." the general said again, words failing him as he looked into the eyes of...

"Yes, it's me: your king," the king said, looking down at the general with a mixture of pity and sadness. "I beat you: your life is in my hands, once again, and I chose to spare it once again."

"But... but... why?" the general asked, completely shocked by this sudden turn of events. "Why?"

"Because I know what happens when bad blood builds up between those who are, or at least were, close to one another," the king said simply. "I could not let that happen between Mehmed and Sheba, should he beat you, nor between you and your own daughter, should you defeat my son. If you were wondering, Mehmed is unconscious in the armory: I used the same sleeper hold on him that you taught me all those years ago."

"You... you did? You remembered how?" the general asked, a trickle of blood leaking from his busted nose and bit lip.

"Of course: it was my friend who taught me that maneuver," the king said with a small, sad smile. "I know things cannot go back to the way they were so long ago, but for the sake of our children, and for the sake of ourselves, can we put the past behind us?"

The general was silent at this: he had been beaten, honorably beaten, by the same stallion who had cheated him out of what he thought was his so long ago. But... to have thrown himself in harm's way, put it all on the line, for the sake of not only his son and the possible relationship said son would have with a general's daughter, but for the relationship between Sheba and her own father? That... that was possibly the most courageous thing Husam had ever seen. It was nothing like the king he remembered all those years ago, the one who cheated to win a duel.

But now that he looked back, it hadn't really been much of a duel to begin with. He had attacked first, nearly severing the king's head with a vicious, out-of-the-blue strike. Only some quick-thinking on the king's part had saved him from certain death, and now that the filter of hatred had been removed by this sudden show of compassion, Husam was certain of one thing.

It was he who had been selfish all those years ago: declaring the queen to have been his, when it had likely been just puppy love from the start. She had never even shown much interest in him outside of being a companion, but every little scrap he had taken as a sign of something deeper. He had been desperate, to be sure, but he hadn't realized it as being desperation. Now he saw the truth: he had been wrong all these years, and the fortress of hatred he had built inside his hear just melted away, like a sand castle hit by a wave.

"Yes," he said, breaking the silence. "The past is in the past, and the bitterness I feel for you is gone. I am sorry, my old friend: for everything."

"As am I, old friend," the king said, dropping his scythe behind him and offering the general his hand. Grasping it, Husam pulled himself up with the king's aid, whereupon they embraced each other like long-lost brothers. Tears rolled down their cheeks as the pain and sorrow and bittersweet memories flowed out of them and onto the dust beneath their hooves.

Just then a figure appeared by Spike's side. Turning to look, he saw it was none other than Sheba, who was staring at the two in the arena with a look of curiosity and confusion.

"What's going on? Are they fighting?" she asked softly. Her eyes were wide at the sight she was seeing, and her lip began to tremble slightly.

The dragon was silent for a moment, a soft smile gracing his lips. "No, no Sheba: you are not witnessing a fight," he said. "You are just seeing the reunion of two long-lost friends." He didn't want to spoil the moment: such a thing as he was seeing was not only rare, but very precious. He would remember it always.

In an instant, two more figures rushed in next to her: the queen and Badr. It looked like they had just run a mile in under a minute, judging from the way they were panting.

"Is... is it over?" the queen asked. "Did... did Mehmed... win?"

"Mehmed did, in a sense," Spike said, pointing over to the far end of the arena. A figure had pushed open the door to the armory, stumbling out in clothes while clutching his head.

"Mehmed!" Sheba called out, vaulting over the side and landing hoof-first in the arena without any difficulty whatsoever. With a wave she rushed past her father and the king, leaping up and embracing the real prince.

"Come on: you must meet my father," she said, dragging him over to Husam. "Father, this is Mehmed, the prince."

The king and the general had broken away from one another, with Husam looking at Mehmed with a newfound respect. If any father was willing to do what the king had done for their son, then this prince must have been really special. "We've met," the general said, discarding his gauntlets: his hands hurt.

"You have?" Sheba asked, arching an eyebrow in surprise. "You never told me you knew each other."

"It was a relatively recent meeting," the general said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Father, why do you have blood on your face?" Sheba asked, concern flooding her voice.

"I... I fell," he said, pausing for a few seconds to try and think of a reasonable excuse. "My helmet hit my face when I did."

"Oh," Sheba said, not sounding entirely convinced. She wasn't an idiot, after all: she was merely meek sometimes, but right now, her father's no-nonsense side was starting to shine through her exterior.

"Besides, I believe Mehmed has something to ask you," the king said, earning a quick look of thanks from Husam: explaining the blood away would have gotten much harder if Sheba remained focused on it.

"Oh?" the mare asked, looking at Mehmed as he regained his senses: damn, his father sure knew how to knock someone out with great haste. "You do?"

"Well, uh... yes, actually," the prince said, looking to the general for approval. A subtle nod was his response, and it was all the response he needed. "Sheba, I know we haven't known each other for a long time, and frankly, I'd like to get to know you a lot better."

"You... would?" Sheba asked, sounding both perplexed and intrigued. "In... in what way?"

"Every way," Mehmed said, causing Spike to almost face-palm from in his seat: he'd better explain this a bit quicker...

"What he is trying to say is, he'd like to take the time to know you better than he already does," the king said, stepping in to smooth out the ruffles in his son's sentence. "A lifetime of learning, one might say."

"One might say?" Sheba asked, sounding even more confused.

"Yes," Mehmed said, looking deep into her eyes. "Sheba El-Hashim, may I have the honor of having you as my queen?"

Complete, utter silence erupted in the arena: not even a fly buzzed, so quit was it. Then Sheba's look of confusion turned to shock, and then... pure joy.

"Y-yes, Mehmed," she said, pulling him into a sudden and bone-crushing embrace. "Of c-course I'll be your queen!"

Mehmed looked over Sheba's mane to both of their fathers, tears welling up in the eyes of all parties involved: even Spike's. "May I ask the general a question?" the prince asked.

"Certainly," Husam said, wiping a tear from below his scarred-fringed eye.

"May I have the permission of marrying your daughter, Sheba?" the young stallion asked.

"Of course you can," Husam said, embracing them both in a great big hug. "Welcome to the family, Mehmed."

Spike wiped a tear away as he watched this: it was so sweet, almost painfully so. In his mind's eye, he could only hope this was how his family and friends back home would welcome his own wives. "Hope" being the operative word here: there was still the manner of Chrysalis to be resolved completely.

The king clapped his hands together as the three broke apart from their hug. "Now that our differences have been set aside, it is time for everything to be planned out accordingly."

"What do you mean?" Mehmed asked.

"The wedding, of course!" Husam said, answering for the king. "Everything will have to be planned out, after all" it's not every day the prince gets married, no less to the daughter of a famous general!"

"When will you want the proceedings to take place?" the king asked.

Mehmed and Sheba looked at each other, and then, surprisingly, looked over at Spike. "The day Spike and his wives are due to leave," Sheba said, with Mehmed nodding in agreement. "We want our happiest day to coincide with their departure: a "fond farewell", if you will."

"That is not for several more weeks, though," Husam said, though no note of disapproval entered his voice at all.

"So? It will just give us more time to prepare and get to know each other a bit better," Mehmed said, pulling Sheba closer for another hug. "After that, we'll have all the time in the world to get ready to run the kingdom in your stead, father."

"Yes: yes, I suppose you will," the king said with a smile, shrugging his shoulders to relieve the moderate pain leftover from the fight. Damn, he knew he still had it in him, but his body was saying he didn't have it all anymore: he used it all up.

Spike slowly clapped at this, though he was soon joined by Badr, the queen, and even the guards. The feud between the families had been broken forever by the selflessness of the king. Now, a new era could begin for both: an age of peace, love, and happy union.


	38. Ma'a Salama

Chapter Thirty Eight

Ma'a Salama

The weeks since the duel between the king and the general had flown by in a haste that would have put a Sonic Rainboom to shame. The entire bazaar had been cleared of shops and stalls, temporarily of course, in order to make room for the processional. As was the custom, wholly different from Agrabah, the marrying couple would march through the city streets and find themselves on the palace steps, where the final union would take place.

Tents of all shapes and sizes had been erected, both to provide shade for the gathering masses and to make it easier to clean things up afterwards. Carriage upon carriage would parade before and after the bride and groom, tossing coins and other valuables into the crowd for good fortune, to curry favor with the masses and, secretly, to stimulate the economy of the city. After all the celebrations began in earnest, ponies would buy much in the way of celebratory supplies: mainly alcohol and food, of course.

Ponies from across the country streamed into the city: important mercantile business leaders, every nonessential soldier from cadet to general, and even a few visiting dignitaries. Dyers and weavers toiled tirelessly to create the highest quality of fabrics to serve as building materials for the prince's carriage, clothes and as the wedding dress of Sheba. Blacksmiths worked day and night, heating their goods to a white-hot temperature in order to shape the ceremonial pieces that would be needed: carriage wheel spokes, the main frames, ceremonial weapons, even the new ceremonial armor all of the guards would be wearing.

The royal blacksmiths and artisans were up to the very same, though their work would be beheld by only the prince, his family, and the bride's family until the moment came to reveal it all to the general public. Mehmed's own ceremonial armor would be custom-fit, according to his own desires and input.

Spike was readying himself as well, the royal blacksmiths wasting no time in preparing a little something for him. He looked at himself in the mirror, the shimmering metallic scales coinciding nicely with the color of robes he had been given. It was as if every scale on his body, or at least the publicly-viewed ones, had been copied and sewn together, until what appeared to be his flesh sparkled and shimmered like sunlight. His wings were covered in the thinnest sheets of metal he had ever witnessed, the patterns complementing them nicely and fitting snug enough that one might mistake him for being entirely shiny. But there was no mistake: this was armor, after all. A helmet guard, with hollowed spines to cover his own, sat on the table, waiting for him to place it on. His mouthpiece was inlaid into the design, so that all he had to do was open his mouth, and the large, rather detailed piece below his nostrils would open as well. Shoulder pauldrons, large and jutting out in what looked like small plates stacked on one another, were attached to a cape that hung down between his wings. His legs and feet were also covered in combinations of steel and leather, the leather underbracing helping to increase his movement while retaining overall coverage. His arms had large braces of metal on them as well, with ridges here and there imitating the spines along his back.

He didn't need this getup, but he felt... good in it: like he was properly suited up for a ceremony. In fact, he felt less like a knight, and more like a general of ancient Roam. His sentiments were not only in his own mind, as a few gasps emerged from the door leading to his wives' separate dressing quarters.

"Oh my..." Maria said as she and the other three walked out, resplendent in their newly-chosen attire. Not a lick of sensual skin showed, but that did not mean they were completely covered up. They all sported small crowns, fitted with small gleaming jewels that Spike knew in an instant were not all that common in this part of the world. Their manes were combed out completely straight, with very slight curls descending down them as they fell behind their backs. They too wore things similar to veils, though they only covered the forehead and did nothing to hide their beautiful faces. Their robes, speckled with flecks of gold and trimmed with the finest silk, swept behind them like large sails, though the way they moved, it was no hindrance at all to them. Their bodies, he noticed, were hugged rather well by those fine robes, showing off their figures in a way that was neither suggestive nor overt in the display of their pregnancies, Asalah being the exception to that. She wasn't pregnant, after all, and her svelte figure was hard to hide, even under all that clothing. All in all, Spike had to say they looked quite beautiful: more so than he had thought they would in this land.

"Wow," all four of them said, each with a unique patterning on the fronts of their dresses. Maria's a star, Chrysalis's (still in disguise as Meia) a dragonfly, Trixie's a swan, and Asalah's a lion.

"You look... amazing," Chrysalis said underneath her guise, her constitution regained a few days before. Now, she too was starting to crave things, and had downed an entire platter of fruits like a vacuum.

"Wow is right: you all look incredible as well," Spike said, giving them a bow as he leaned over and picked up his knightly helmet. "Are you all feeling well? The ceremony is only in a few hours, and we'd best be on our best behavior."

"We feel fine, Spike," Trixie said as she softly rubbed her belly. "Though, if we want to be ready, we'd best be there early."

"Too true," Spike said, sheathing his head in the helmet: it fit like a glove. "Being on time is good, but being early is better." His voice was barely obstructed by the metallic construct covering his mouth, a testament to the engineering that went into it.

"Plus, the sooner this ceremony is done, the sooner we can leave: your last letter from Celestia did say she'd be contacting us with that "magic mirror" spell again, and I'd rather still be in my guise than have to drop it, only to put it back on," Chrysalis said softly. It was uncomfortable to wear it for extended periods, and that would only progress as her pregnancy went on. Eventually, she wouldn't be able to wear the disguise at all, and then, eventually, all of Equestria would have to find out the truth.

"Exactly," Spike said, his newfound knowledge of changeling physiology giving him good reason to wish for this, and his next meeting, to be over sooner rather than later. But he didn't want to give the appearance of him wanting the ceremony to be rushed: he was not so callous as to want to rush a day that would change a kingdom.

Escorting his wives down the tower stairs, Spike was no sooner nearing the throne room than he was besieged by the prince and his parents, General Husam and his wife Badr bringing up the rear. They were all decked out in ceremonial outfits and armor, though Husam's sword was anything but ceremonial, it seemed.

"Spike, you have to help me," Mehmed said, his breathing quickened.

"What's the matter?" the dragon asked, his voice suddenly filled with concern. What had happened now?

"It's Sheba: she won't leave her room," the prince said. "We're due in a few minutes, and she refuses to speak to anyone, even her mother!" He sounded more stressed now than he ever had been before, and he had almost had to duel Sheba's father to the death a few weeks previously!

"She must be getting cold hooves," Chrysalis said over Spike's shoulder, though it was Meia everypony else saw speak. "I was wondering if this might not happen, but it seems it has anyway."

"Should I talk to her?" Spike asked, hoping to resolve this potentially disastrous situation as soon as possible.

"No, she specifically said she didn't want to talk to you either," the queen said. "I'm not sure what else to do, Spike. This day was supposed to be a happy one, and now it's all going to Tartarus!"

"Let me talk to her," a voice said. Everypony else turned around to see Maria standing behind them all, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I think I could get through to her, if you let me try."

"Yes, yes, anything would help," Husam said, appearing almost as stressed as Mehmed: it was his daughter in there, for crying out loud!

Maria followed Badr away from the others, who had all fallen silent from the sudden stress of the situation. This was not good: what was going on in that bride-to-be's head?

Maria walked as fast as she could behind Badr, glad that the door to where Sheba was currently staying rapidly approach. "She might not want to see you either," Badr said quietly.

"That's fine: I have my ways of entering a barred door," Maria replied. Breathing slowly and settling her heartbeat, she closed her eyes and concentrated, a glow emanating from her horn. Slowly, like a waterfall, a curtain of magic descended over her body, covering every single inch of her, clothes and all. Then, gingerly, she took a step forward, her hooves making barely a sound. Another step, and she was pressed up against the door, but in an instant, she partly through it: an immaterial spell. Bracing herself, she pushed her way through the rest of the door, disappearing from Badr's view. The mare left behind wringed her hands: there was little else she could do, but wait.

Letting the magic fall from her, Maria opened her eyes and looked around: the room was surprisingly dark, as the drawn curtains were doing a rather well job of blocking out the sunlight. In the middle of the room, sitting on a pile of pillows, had to be Sheba. She was softly sobbing to herself, and even in the low light, her tears were glistening.

"Sheba?" Maria asked, her voice soft as she slowly approached. The mare stopped crying and looked up at her in shock, her voice catching in her throat.

"How... how did you get in?" the Arabian mare asked softly.

"Magic, my dear: I am a unicorn, after all," Maria said, walking up next to her and looking down. "Do you mind if I sit by you?"

Sheba slowly shook her head, and soon the pregnant Spreignish noblemare was sitting beside her. "I know this is a difficult day for you, Sheba," Maria began, gently patting her on the back. "When I ask you this, I ask you as what I hope as a friend, not an intruder. So, please, tell me: what's the matter?"

Sheba choked back another soft sob. "I'm... I'm sorry to have put you all through this, but I... I just can't go through with this. I just can't marry Mehmed."

"Why not?" the pregnant noblemare asked, concern and confusion entering her tone as she gently stroked Sheba's back. "I thought you loved him: I know for a fact he can't get you out of his head."

"I love him: don't get me wrong, I really do," Sheba said, rubbing her tears away with one hand. "It's just... I'm scared."

"Scared? Scared of what?" Maria asked, her magic pulling the curtains open slowly behind them, just to let some more light shine in the room.

"It's just... I mean... Oh, you wouldn't understand," the Arabian pony said.

"Try me." Maria was not going to give up so easily: it was in her blood to try and solve a puzzle, even if she didn't know where half the pieces were.

"It's... it's... it's your husband: you love him, don't you?" Sheba asked.

Maria nodded. "With all my heart, yes: what does that have to do with anything?"

"You showed him perhaps the greatest gift of love a mare could give her husband," the Arabian mare said, in an almost jealous tone. Jealous? That was odd.

"Which would be... what?" the noblemare asked.

"You got pregnant!" Sheba nearly shouted. "You have taken his wild oats into your womb, and have created life! You will bear him foals, perhaps many in your time as his wife, and he will love you all so very much!"

"Is that what this is about?" Maria asked. "Are... are you pregnant?"

"What... no!" Sheba said, looking scandalized. "I have not lain with anypony in my life!"

"Then what does my pregnancy have to do with anything?" Maria asked. This mare was either completely out of it, or else she had a very deep-seated fear.

"It began yesterday, when my mother and soon-to-be mother-in-law were talking about Mehmed's own conception," the other mare said. "How he was a miracle birth, as any previous attempts either failed or never took hold within his mother's womb. They started wondering whether or not it had been the queen's fault or the king's seed was not up to the task for most of the time, and I just... I just...I-,"

"You wonder if it will be the same for both of you," Maria finished for her, having finally connected the dots and come to a conclusion she had not thought Sheba ever would have been thinking about. "You're scared, my dear: scared you might lose a foal, or not bear him any at all. Am I right in saying this?"

Sheba didn't even speak: she just gave a small squeak and nodded her head, tears once again forming.

"Sheba, come here," Maria said in a soothing voice, gently pulling the mare to her. Resistant at first, Sheba eventually collapsed into the unicorn's arms, enfolding herself in the hug. "Sheba, I'm not going to lie to you: that is a legitimate concern almost every single pony goes through, especially us mares."

"It... it is?" the bride-to-be sniffled, wiping a few tears on Maria's dress: the noblemare ignored that.

"Of course, my dear. I myself was wondering the same things you were, only, in my case, it was several months after I had married Spike," the unicorn said softly, stroking Sheba's cheek to soothe one, like a mother might do to a frightened infant. "The world is at many times, cruel and unfair, but at other times, it can be wondrous and filled with hope."

"But... but you said you too were scared at the prospect of... of losing a foal," Sheba said in a whisper.

"That I did, that I did," Maria agreed. "To let you in on a secret, Sheba, I still am. This journey of Spikes has already done wonders for many of the places he's visited, and from what I've heard, Equestria is already becoming better for it. Scholars are fervently studying many of the copied texts he sent back, and trees varieties not found there are being grown for the first time. Still, it will be a long while before we reach there, and in that time, anything could happen: to him, to me, to his unborn foals." It was the truth, plainly spoken: Maria was still worried about passage over the seas.

"So... how do you do it then?" Sheba asked after a few moments of silence. "How do you keep so strong, and appear so calm all of the time?"

"I do because I have to: for my sake, for the sake of my fellow herd-mates, and Spike's sake, especially," the noblemare said softly. "You may not know this, but Spike can become very high strung if something even remotely unusual happens to one of us. He tore apart a bandit group when they threatened us back in the Samarea Desert, with his bare hands. Call me crazy, but I don't think it is his draconic instinct to hoard his wives and keep us to himself: in fact, I think it goes much deeper than that."

"You... you do?" Sheba asked, having wiped away the last of her tears and exiting the comforting embrace. She looked at the unicorn with a mixture of puzzlement and gratitude, for having come in and sat down to talk with her. "What... what is it?"

"It is an instinct far more powerful than simple greed, or even draconic greed. Spike wants to protect us, and will, with all his might, not only because we are his wives, but because he loves us," Maria said softly, gently stroking her cloth-covered belly. "Three of us are also carrying his children, perhaps intensifying his desire to keep us safe a hundred-fold. He loves each of us equally, in our own way: it is not some "blanket" love, as some might think. To him, each of us is unique, separate from the rest in some special way but part of a majestic whole. He truly, deeply loves us, Sheba, and from what I have heard, Mehmed feels the same about you. I have seen the way you two look at each other, and I know you feel the same for him." How could anyone miss the looks the two young ponies had been giving each other since the duel? Somepony would have to be blind to miss something so obvious.

"But... but... what if I cannot do for him what you have done for your husband?" the mare asked. "What if... what if I cannot conceive? Or worse, what if I cannot bring a foal to full term, and lose it?"

"Trust in time, Sheba: you must be patient. But perhaps more importantly, trust in yourself," Maria said, rising to her hooves with little difficulty, her hands pulling Sheba up as well. "I am sure that by this time next year, you and your husband will have been blessed with a beautiful, healthy little foal to call your own." It was always hard to tell how a pony's reproductive system would work on the inside just by outer appearances, but Maria could see Sheba had beautifully grown into the body type perfect for carrying foals.

"You... you really think so?" Sheba asked with a smile as Maria's magic undid the locks and moved away the chairs blocking the doors. "You think... you think I can give him an heir?" She still sounded a bit worried at the possible prospect of being unable to fulfill the duty bestowed on almost every young mare in her position.

"Of course, my dear," Maria said softly, her gentleness of a sort that not only soothed but reinvigorated one's spirit. "Perhaps even more than one, as long as you feel up to the task of carrying foals for several years in total. Only, I do ask of you one thing."

"What would that be?" the other mare asked as they approached the door, hand in hand like life-long friends.

"Don't give your foal an unusual name, or at least unusual by your culture's standards," Maria said. "My youngest brother was almost called Donfuentenago, simply because my father's uncle had a friend named that and he was a close friend to the family while my father grew up."

Sheba was silent for a moment, until she burst into a fit of giggles. Maria tried to remain composed, but soon she too broke down, and they were both giggling like mad when they exited the doors, only to find Badr waiting for them with an expression of pure befuddlement on her features.

"Did... did I miss something?" she asked, clearly not having heard the little discussion of foal naming from her side of the doors.

"No, mother: Maria was just telling me a little joke," Sheba said, smoothing out her dress as if she had not been crying at all.

"Well, then, can we proceed?" Badr asked, wringing her hands slightly.

"Yes, mother: we may," the Arabian mare said, smiling a great big smile.

"Thank goodness: for a while there, I thought I might have to get the guards to break the doors down," her mother said, leading the two mares back to where the others had been.

"Good thing she didn't," Maria whispered to Sheba, causing them both to smile again.

Upon reaching the others, the first thing Sheba did was throw her arms around Mehmed's neck and whisper something into his ear. Only Spike could hear what she had said, and he turned to Maria, who looked none the worse for wear.

"Did I miss something important?" he asked as they all made their way out to the waiting carriages.

"Life-changing, my dear," Maria said, earning a few snickers from Trixie and Asalah. "Rest assured, I shall fill you in on all the details once we continue on our way." She turned back to the other three mares, her eyes focusing, kindly at that, on Meia/Chrysalis. "All of you, that is: no secrets between us anymore, right?"

"Of course," the disguised Changleing Queen said with a smile. "No more secrets between us."

Spike, on the other hand, knew plenty of secrets were being kept by him, only not to his wives. To his friends, family and soon-to-be fellow monarchs back home, yes: he had a plethora of secrets they knew nothing about.

A few hours later...

After the "minor" scare of a possible runaway bride, the rest of the day went rather smoothly. The carriages moved through the streets at a leisurely pace, giving the ponies time to see their prince and his bride. Banners and streamers flew high over the entire city, with the proceedings continuing on right on schedule: the dispensing of much coin to the gathered masses, the entertainment consisting of dancers, jugglers, singers, and just about every other great profession under the sun.

Arriving upon the steps of the palace, Sheba and Mehmed stood before the anointed minister, a pegasus, oddly enough. He was old, and of course he was nearly half blind, as it seemed many ministers at his age were. Spike stood with his wives, so still one might have thought he were merely a statue of metal polished up for the event. Across from him stood Husam, his normally rough exterior softened by a few tears glistening on his snout as he silently cried. These, however, were tears of joy, something he had not cried in quite some time.

Amidst a great roar of approval from the gathered crowd, the minster blessed the young royal couple and announced them married. By now, it was near midday, and already the prince had Spike light a few magical fireworks with a plume of fire breath. When they exploded high above, though, they did not become easily-fading sparks of light. Instead, they burst into large red flower petals, which floated down lazily over the entire city: soon, every street was filled with their sweet scent.

Almost immediately, the partying began for the city in general. The food had been prepared, the alcohol, mostly wine, had been brought out of storage, and the coin flowed freely from the pockets of many. Meanwhile, in the palace, Spike and his wives had soon changed into more suitable traveling garments, and were well on their way to leaving behind Saddle Arabia.

"Spike? A moment of your time, if you will," Mehmed asked the dragon after he had sent every gift they had been given, including Spike's set of ceremonial armor, back to Equestria. The gifts are too numerous to list, but suffice to say Twilight would be very busy sorting and cataloging it all before Spike reached Baghdad.

"Yes?" Spike said, walking away from his wives, who were already loaded up in the carriages. Contrary to popular belief, Saddle Arabia did have many fine roads, with spells enchanting them to not become blistering and to keep sand off of them. So, for a while at least, the traveling would be smooth once more.

"My parents would not want you to know of this, out of fear that you might do something foolish, but you must be very careful outside of our borders," the prince said, looking around as if disclosing some great secret. "Some of the places you will pass through are either distrustful of strangers or have had bad experiences with dragons in the past."

"Like who?" Spike asked.

"Like the Ottomares, for starters," Mehmed said. "A thousand years ago, a great dragon came upon the massive city of Istanbul and died whilst high in the air: of old age, I have heard. When he landed, he crushed much of the outer wall, and almost overnight an army showed up to try and take the city: barbarians, you see."

"What happened?" Spike asked again, not sure if Luna deciding this would be a good country to go through was such a good idea after all.

"They were defeated, though barely, but from then on, large dragons are very "encouraged" to stay away from that city," Mehmed said. "And by "encouraged," I mean by way of warning ballista bolt shots: massive ones, too, I imagine."

Spike was silent for a moment: well, that was something to consider. But Luna had told him that was the way to go, and even he knew to take a detour rather than go directly through Istanbul would take more time than he had allotted for in this trip. "Then I'll be sure to stay nice and small," he replied with a small chuckle. "Perhaps incognito as well, just to be safe."

"Then good luck, my friend," Mehmed said, pulling Spike into a hug. "Ma'a salama," he whispered as they broke apart.

"What does that mean?" Spike asked, having never really heard any Saddle Arabian speak in a language dissimilar to his own.

"It means 'good bye', Spike," Mehmed said as they walked back to the carriages. "May your travels always bring you home safe and sound: I would like to see you again sometime."

"As would I, my friend," Spike replied, climbing into his carriage. "As would I, your highness." With that, he and his wives set off, winding through the streets of Saddle Arabia's capital until they reached the mane gates. With a nod from the guards, they exited, with a few more flower petal fireworks going off from one of the carriages behind them.

Four heads poked out to see Trixie holding a few empty containers, a sheepish smile on her face as the fireworks exploded high in the air. "Sorry: couldn't resist," she said, her horn's sparks dying down as she retreated to her carriage.

Everypony else laughed as the petals flittered down around them, a rather beautiful sight as they bid Mehmed, his now-larger family and his city goodbye


End file.
